


there when you need them the most

by emptypockets



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Requests, Team Bonding, Whump, i caved there’s occasional thasmin, one shots, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 20:58:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 37,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16272224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emptypockets/pseuds/emptypockets
Summary: A collection of one shots mostly in the h/c genre as written by requests, featuring Team TARDIS.





	1. Give Me a Hand

**Author's Note:**

> So I haven't written fanfiction in about three years since the peak of my whouffaldi shipping, but Thirteen has just struck a huge chord and I absolutely ADORE HER. I've never written her before so bear with me as I find her voice. Leave me prompts for anything whumpy you'd like to read! I'll throw in my own own ideas for chapters every now and again as they come to me.
> 
>  
> 
> SUMMARY: Undergoing serious physical distress, the Doctor must rely on her new friends to take care of her.

"No one ever teach you how to use a key?" The Doctor's voice breaks the almost-silence, the only competitors being the slowing breaths she's been counting coming from the far corner of the cell, and the shuffle of key after key against the lock on the door that's most likely damaged by carelessness at this point. Her probably inaudible question receives no answer, the unidentified being behind the door too engrossed in their task to notice either way. 

The Doctor exhales from her spot on the icy floor, back against the wall, her shoulders hunched and rigid and an arm held snug against her chest. A single sentence is enough exercise for the day, she decides to herself with a trembling sound that has the potential to be a chuckle. 

The individual behind the door can still be heard, obnoxiously loud and clear, muttering frustrations to themselves, then all goes silent.

" _Thank you."_  The Doctor sighs, only having seconds on peace before one horrifying, ear ringing  _bang_  reverberates through the room, prompting the Doctor to wince and cover her face with one hand, more out of irritability by the disturbance than discomfort. She only bothers to open her eyes when a friendly voice leaves her no choice. 

"Finally! Whatever works works, I suppose." Yasmin stands in the entrance of the room, alien firearm in hand that proved to be far more useful than the ring of keys she'd swiped moments before. "Doctor, we don't have much time. Ryan found a clear path out of here that's unguarded and Graham's keeping an eye out outside. You sure do know how to piss off the locals, don't you? They've got this place pretty well secured but we did what you told us to do and I think we've got a clear shot to get you out of here, but we have to go  _now._ " 

The Doctor grins, hearts light with pride for the intelligence of her friends. Simple yet indirect instructions;  _Get the TARDIS to a safe spot, get a feel for the area and under any circumstances do_ not _try to get me out of here unless you are beyond positive that not a single one of you will come out unscathed. Am I understood?_  Helpless to the arms that restrained her she had done her best to share a couple tips and tricks, but Yasmin, Ryan and Graham did the deed completely on their own, and she couldn't be prouder. 

Then again, it did take them a whole seventeen days, three hours, fourteen minutes and... fifty- _two_ seconds to find her in the joke of a cell she was stuck in. 

"You see?!" The Doctor exclaims, louder than before with the energy shocked into her system by Yasmin's appearance. "Told you my mates would come for me. I'm not mad, I'm just the right amount of optimistic." Her words aren't directed at Yasmin, however, instead speaking to the figure in the corner of the room shielded by dark and grime. Another victim of merciless hands who's name the Doctor never even learned. She didn't need the sonic that was snatched from her hand seventeen days ago to know why her cellmate wasn't responding, the previous near-silence in the room now truly filled with nothing. The breaths had slowed to a stop. Her friend is dead. 

"Doctor." Yasmin urges again, concerned that the Time Lord isn't aware of the time sensitivity of their situation. Following the Doctor's gaze shows her the lifeless body on the other side of the room and her heart pangs, but her motive doesn't shift. "I'm so sorry, we really have to go right now." 

The Doctor spends a few seconds running through potential solution after potential solution in her weary mind, but knows nothing can be done. With a quick shift of mindset she braces her hands on the stone floor, moves one foot backwards and puts her weight on that heel in preparation to stand. 

"Doctor  _get up_!" Yasmin sounds worried now, distracted by the multiple different angles that an enemy could quickly approach from at any time if they wanted to. 

The Doctor pushes against the floor, hardly rising at all before she's subject to gravity once more. "About that. Think you could give me a hand here, Yaz?" 

"Why, what's wrong with you?" Mid sentence she's tossed the now unneeded weapon aside and is on her knees, arm around the Doctor's shoulders and a hand clasping one of hers for support. It's a slow process of grunts, sweating and swearing, but Yasmin manages to bring her to her feet. The Doctor's stance lacks confidence, threatening to send her to the floor yet again. She's thankful for Yasmin's sturdiness to temporarily rely on. "Seriously, are you alright?" In the near blackness of the room Yasmin can't assess her friend's condition beyond the slump of her bodyweight against her own and the heavy breaths falling on her shoulder, but she feels her chest constrict with worry. Their escape plan wasn't going to be a smooth ride. 

"Nothing to worry about." The Doctor responds immediately, holding her body in a position that will allow her the best possible speed under the given circumstances - which isn't much.

"If you can't even stand on your own then it is  _absolutely_ something to worry about." 

"Sure, but can we do anything about that right now?" 

Yasmin quiets, focused on guiding the Doctor through the corridors and then providing a reluctant shake of her head. 

"Then lets focus on what we can do something about. Getting out of here. Everything else is just gonna have to wait." The last few words of her statement are strained and she doesn't speak after that. Shuffling one foot in front of the other while hanging onto Yaz's shoulder to keep from falling proves to be too taxing for any further conversation. 

 

 

\-------------

 

 

Both Ryan and Graham are waiting for them when they emerge from the only unguarded exit doors on the whole premises. It took them about ten minutes, the Doctor estimates, thankful that her trek has come to an end. It felt much longer. 

Her forehead rests against her knees where Yasmin deposited her against the base of a tree. She can hear the three arguing, shouting, trying to decide the best next move in between variations of  _"What's wrong with her?"_ She concentrates on breathing in and out, taking this opportunity to rest her body and mind and hopefully gain the energy to complete the last leg of the endeavor. "Where's the TARDIS?" She interrupts the bickering. 

Ryan and Graham seem taken aback by the fragility of her voice. It's the first they've heard it since the group reunited minutes previous. 

"'Bout half a mile that way." Ryan says helpfully, pointing to his right. "We really need to get going." As if to prove his point, a siren echoes through the hills causing the three to grimace and the Doctor to cover her ears. "I take it that means they noticed you missing... and that they're probably keen to snatch you again." 

Graham and Yasmin are already at the Doctor's side, lifting her to her feet by the elbows and settling her left arm around Yasmin's shoulder. Graham steps back, taking the briefest of seconds to assure the Doctor is steady enough with the support. "You look terrible! Have you got some future-y alien-y stuff in that ship of yours that'll sort this? What did they do to you in there anyways? Can you make it the half mile? Yaz, watch out. She looks like she's slipping-" 

She is, actually. The questions making the Doctor's head spin and the ground beneath her feet seeming to do the same. Ryan is at her other side in an instant, settling her free arm around his shoulder where she grips at the fabric of his shirt and lifts her head ever so slightly. Her eyes show she's determined, hopeful, but a tiny bit frightened nonetheless. "I'll be fine. Just get me to the TARDIS."

 

 

\------

 

 

The last stretch of the walk seems to take the longest. Yasmin, Ryan and Graham swap out every few minutes, two holding the Doctor's weight in between them and the third trailing behind to keep an ear out for danger. The Doctor's eyes are half closed - practically dead on her feet, hair stuck to her face and neck by the perspiration that won't subside. A jolt of pain deep in her chest elicits a gasp and stuttered steps as she breathes through the pain, eyes closed to avoid six eyes that she knows will show nothing but patience and sympathy. It's the latter that irks her. 

She regains enough balance to continue on and  _finally_ they've reached the TARDIS, and some of the tension in everyone's shoulders lessen a bit at the sense of safety brought on by the ship. Graham is already holding open the door for everyone that is perfectly capable of holding itself open. He's at a loss, unsure how to assist the situation any further but unable to do absolutely nothing. 

Ryan and Yasmin aim for the corridor, anxious to get their friend the medical attention she needs that Yaz really hopes there's a step-by-step manual for, but the Doctor's shifted her weight and half collapses against the TARDIS console. 

She allows herself a breath of familiar air. Seventeen days is nothing - a walk in the park compared to countless prior imprisonments. Nonetheless, the warmth of the console room soothes her mind a bit. The hum of the engines as she puts all her strength into the final lever brings her joy. She looks up to see that her friends followed direct orders: not a scratch on them. That brings her peace. 

"Drugged." The Doctor explains at last, one hand holding herself upright on the console and the other gripping the suspender strap at her chest as she tried to draw in complete breaths. Oxygen is important, she's heard. 

" _Drugged?_ " Graham repeats, exasperated as the burning questions increase. 

"With what?" Ryan adds before Yaz has the chance to. 

"Dunno yet, but it doesn't like me." Her legs and the arm holding her upright stop doing their job. "But that's alright, I don't like it too much either." 

All three of her companions advance on instinct but it's Yasmin who gets their first, accepting the Doctor's weight and guiding her in the direction of the med bay. This time, the Doctor obliges. 

She can feel Graham and Ryan hovering closely over her shoulder, ready to help in any way but no knowledge allowing them to do so. The stark whiteness of the room as they arrive makes everyone squint for a moment. Yasmin drops the Doctor onto the closest bed and the four let out a simultaneous breath. Alright. Next step. 

For a moment the Doctor just sits, held upright by Yasmin's supportive hand and nothing more. Silent nerve returns and it's just about unbearable. 

When the Doctor shows no sign of taking control of the situation Yasmin takes the liberty of resting two fingers at the her throat and frowning at the weak rhythm she can feel through her skin. "You've got to tell us what you need. I don't think first aid trainin' has me qualified for whatever mad science stuff you've got in here." 

Drawn out of her pained trance the Doctor's head lifts from it's bowed state and grants the three a pale grin and glassy eyes. "I'm gonna make you all wear blind folds if you don't quit staring at me like that." She sits a little straighter and lifts a hand from her lap to gesture to a scanner on the table not too far away. "Hand me that." 

The scanner does what it says on the tin within seconds and the Doctor flicks a switch that projects the diagnostics on the wall behind them. 

"Whatever it is they didn't know what they were doing. Looks like the goal of it was to stop a heart or two, but so far so good. Issue is," having acquired all the info needed she lets the scanner fall on the bed at her side. "It's still in my blood, still doing it's thing. Won't flush itself out. Don't think it'll kill me but it sure is-" she hesitates, cut off by a cough that causes her to draw a hand to her chest and nearly send her head into her knees. Regaining enough breath she manages to finish, " _messing with me._ " 

"So what, you're just gonna sit there in agony and hope for the best?  _Sleep it off_ _?_ " Graham scoffs. 

"Never said anything about agony or sleeping anything off. There's an probably app for this, there's an app for everything. Did you know that? It's pretty cool." Out of breath already. 

Ryan's the next to chime in, still buzzing with the bad sort of adrenaline that he's itching to shower off. "Yes, you  _are_ in agony, look at you! It's a wonder how we got you here in one piece. Just-" Same as Graham, Ryan is unable to stand idly by. "Just tell us how we can help and then we'll leave you be. But if you want peace and quiet you've got to play by our rules too."

The Doctor lets out a breath thick with exhaustion. "Graham was right, actually, I'll just sleep it off. It's not killing me." 

Yaz interjects, "And you're sure about that are you?" 

" _Yes._ " She means it. She's miserable, breathing is one hell of a task and the pain in her chest feels like knife wounds, but she's in one piece and at no further risk. "Everything will be right as rain by this time tomorrow."

Her friends still seemed unsettled, shifting weight from foot to foot. 

"Well if you're just gonna stand there you may as well be my hands. Graham, make everyone a cuppa. Yaz, could you fetch me some clean clothes? The stench of that place follows me everywhere." As soon as Yasmin's hand stops holding the Doctor up she starts to sway but catches herself with the last of her strength just in time. "Ryan, you see that syringe over there?" 

Ryan eyes the item suspiciously, flicking his gaze back and forth between it and the Doctor a couple times before forcing out, "Yes?"

"Be a good lad and jam it into my neck. Right here," She taps the side off her neck with her fingertips. "Beddy-by for me. When I wake up I'm taking you all to Hedgewick's world. Pre-cybermen of course. Spacey zoomer!" Her eyes are half closed and everyone assumes she's speaking pure nonsense. Ryan's been holding the syringe for a moment, staring at it warily. "Oh, come on. It's impossible to screw up. Yaz can do it if you're too scared- OW!" The sedative sinks into her system with a hiss and she slaps Ryan weakly on the arm. "Rude."

Yasmin has just enough time to help her into clean clothes before the Doctor's body slackens and her eyes start to shut. 

As her head is eased onto a pillow and her feet lifted onto the bed, she takes one final look at the room before full unconsciousness has the chance to take her. Graham, balancing four cups of tea that he tries to carry through the doorway but a small trip sends two of the cups smashing into the floor, his cursing not far behind. Yasmin, standing close by and holding the Doctor's dirty clothes that'll need three or four washes, and Ryan at the foot of the bed watching to make sure she fell asleep without complication. 

"Thank you guys for everything. I owe you one."


	2. Here, There, Nowhere.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from ValkyrieCain: Thirteen has that moment in ep1 where she panics when she realise the TARDIS is gone. Something exploring the new Doctor having panic attacks or issues with anxiety, hopefully with her friends supporting her.
> 
> Note: A bit of canon divergence in this one in which instead of the four being transported to deep space at the end of episode one, they're just stuck on earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless you all for the prompts and comments! I remember now one of the reasons I used to write all the time. Thanks for fueling me <3

_"So what're you gonna do now?"_

_"Well, sort of homeless at the moment. The TARDIS likes to throw a bit of a tantrum when I blow up in the console room - thinks she's teaching me a lesson, probably, leaving me stranded like this. I can keep myself busy until she's finished stompin' around."_

_"Stay with us." Ryan had insisted helpfully, filing the Doctor's rambles about her ship like it was a disgruntled child under 'questions for later'. "Sofa's open for business. Graham won't care, wouldn't matter much if he did anyway."_

_She'd grinned ear to ear and chirped a quick "Alright!" with a volume that made Ryan blink in shock, as if his response was what she'd been_ _aiming for in the first place.  "Should only be a couple o' days at most." And with that she'd taken the liberty of letting herself inside his home, tossing her coat over the back of a dining chair and immediately setting to work on"improving" their microwave into a voice activated dish washer. Ryan didn't expect that telling her they already had a much larger and perfectly useful dishwasher would make a difference. It didn't._

That was four weeks ago.

By now the Doctor has her cozy little setup in Ryan and Graham's living room that she's unofficially claimed as her own. The television, now wired exclusively to detect and alert at any specifically blue objects entering the the atmosphere, chirps and whirs and makes all sorts of other noises that it's never made before. The sofa has been reconstructed into a bunk bed complete with seven cup holders and a lemonade dispenser. The oddest bit is that she hardly even sleeps, as proven by the multiple nights Ryan and Graham have woken up to a crash or scream of the sort, usually accompanied by a "MY BAD! EVERYTHING'S FINE!" coming from downstairs. 

Most of their household appliances no longer serve their original purpose. The fridge warms, the oven cools. The coffee maker dispenses nothing but whipped cream no matter what you put in it and the radio plays the same two Peter Andre songs on a loop. "I don't even like Peter Andre." She'd provided uselessly when asked for an explanation. 

Always doing something, always fixing or unfixing something that she fixed a little too well in the first place. Never standing still for more than a second. Her restlessness would have the potential to be irritating if Ryan and Graham didn't respect her as much as they do. 

"Welcome home! Are you a mechanic yet?" The Doctor asks Ryan something of the sort about his NVQ studies nearly every day. He's only mentioned it to her once, on that first day of their meeting last month, and the fact that she not only remembers but cares enough to ask almost always brings him to a smile. 

"Again, no." He plops on the bottom bunk of the no-longer-sofa next to where the Doctor is loudly chewing gum and hunched over a pile of what looks to be an assortment of christmas lights, paper clips, dinner forks, a tooth brush and a bunch of other stuff he doesn't necessarily want to identify. "Is that my toothbrush?!" Ryan swipes it from the pile and is met with a slap on the hand as the Doctor reclaims the item with an offended scoff. 

"Don't snatch things, I need that! You can have it back when I'm finished." She returns it to the pile that now has some sort of shape. A couple bulbs start to flicker before falling into a steady flashing rhythm, and Ryan winces as she takes the piece of gum out of her mouth and uses it to stick his toothbrush to the makeshift machine by the bristles. 

"That's alright." His face scrunches up in revulsion at the sight. "I've got a spare somewhere."

The next few minutes are spent in semi-silence. After the initial shock of having his home turned upside down - _probably won't be long before that statement isn't a metaphor_ \- Ryan had discovered that he could sit in perfect contentment and watch the Doctor fiddle with her devices for hours. He even offered to help sometimes, his mechanic desires piquing interest in technology he doesn't yet understand, and sometimes she let him. This time, she doesn't. 

"Don't touch anything!" The Doctor hisses when Ryan does no more than lean in to get a closer look. 

"What's it supposed to do anyway?" He followers her instruction without missing a beat, a little taken aback by her abruptness. 

"Scan for artron energy within a certain radius, home in on it and transport it here. Well, maybe not  _right_ here on the coffee table, I've done it before though. I'll try to spare as much of your furniture as I can." Ryan knows her well enough by now to figure that's probably an empty promise. 

It's generally some response like that. Something about finding her ship, always some new method she's cooked up in between failed ones and each time, Ryan's noticed, the default look of optimism the Doctor walks around with grows a little dimmer. 

She doesn't tell them much, but Ryan's grasped the concept that her ship means the world to her. A constant in her life, she's explained in brief, something that she can forever rely on. It's no wonder that losing that reliability has thrown her off. She doesn't seem used to being stuck in one place for long at all. 

The Doctor's sudden shouting jolts Ryan out of his thought. "No, no  _no,_ why aren't you working, you're supposed to be working, not _not_ working!" She hits the top of the device with her palm which only causes paperclips to lose their place and gum to stick to her hand. Ryan finds it amusing that she seems surprised that a machine held together by nothing but Trident would flop. What's a lot less amusing is the way she then throws it against the wall across the room, making a sound that causes the two of them to flinch and smashing the energy detector back into separate components. " _No_." Hands clenched into fists pressed firmly into her knees, Ryan doesn't think he's ever seen his friend so distressed. 

The Doctor starts to speak incomprehensibly under her breath, staring at her boots and her blonde hair the only thing protecting her face filled with emotion from Ryan's wide eyes. Eventually the mutters turn into actual sentences. 

"She's always been there for me." She starts and Ryan thinks he can hear a slight tremor to the quiet voice. "She's always there. I'm always there. We're always together one way or another - I mean how  _else_ am I supposed to get around! The universe is just sitting there, and I'm sitting here. I'm  _stuck,_ Ryan, I'm  _stuck, I'm really truly stuck._ " 

She uses his name but Ryan doesn't think her words are directed at him, rather that she's using his ears as an unintentional outlet, because her eyes are still fixed directly down. Her whole body is stiff now, he notices, and her fists press even firmer into her knees. 

"I can't do anything from a bloody  _sofa_!" The Doctor insists to no one and nothing in particular, and Ryan looks around the room at the failed experiments littering the living room floor as if it backs up her point, though he's well aware her intelligence still counts for far more than the credit she's currently providing herself. She eyes the broken pieces of her most recent attempt, as if trying to make sure it knows it's disappointed her. "The universe is just sitting there... an infinity of unexplored worlds and new faces. People who need help. Somewhere, Ryan,  _someone_ out there really needs my help right now, and I just sit here. This isn't me. This isn't what I'm supposed to do." 

"Why are they your responsibility?" It's the first time he's spoken since her - what he'll call an  _epidemic_ \- began. It's the first time it's felt appropriate. She needs someone to listen to her right now. "Why are you designated superhero of the world?" 

"Because I just  _am_! When people need help, I never refuse. When people need help, I never refuse." Mid sentence she's standing, pacing the small circumference of the room and repeating the statement a couple more times before falling back into murmurs, which are mostly just variations of the word  _stuck_. 

It's not about saving people right now, Ryan realizes. She's claustrophobic. 

"Let's go outside." Quickly he stands to cross the room and open the front door, inviting her to follow and attempting to take control of the situation where she for once has none. The Doctor shows no sign that she's even heard him, pacing increasing in speed. She doesn't even notice when she bumps her knee into the corner of the coffee table. 

With a sigh Ryan's back at her side clasping his hand around her wrist and tugging in his direction. "Doctor, come outside." She doesn't look at him but has no choice but to be propelled out the front door. Ryan can feel her body shake and her heartbeat thunder beneath his palm against her wrist. He's concerned. This is new to him, and he suspects it's new to her as well. 

The two step into the fresh air and the Doctor stops rambling to herself, distracted by the bright sunlight that she squints at until her eyes have adjusted. Her state doesn't seem to improve at the open space so Ryan guides her with a calm hand to sit in the rocking chair on the porch.

"Do you need to be left alone?" He says, recognizing whatever the alien equivalent of a panic attack is and asking the questions he'd appreciate being asked if he were in the same situation. 

The Doctor shakes her head in response. No she doesn't need to be left alone, but not because she necessarily wants him there. Here, there, it doesn't matter, because the TARDIS is still nowhere. 

Ryan slides to sit cross legged on the porch a few feet away from her in silent support. He wants to be close anyways, just in case she needs anything. She'd already done so much for them. 

When the Doctor starts to hyperventilate to a point of visible wooziness that threatens to send her falling out of the chair, Ryan rises quickly to steady her with one hand and realizes she's probably not coming down from this on her own. 

"Cross your legs. Try squeezing one hand with the other, as tight as you can, but relax the rest of your body." 

She half follows his instructions, legs crossed and sweat slicked hands twisted together, but the stiffness in her shoulders doesn't subside. Ryan stays close by, ready to catch her if she passes out.

"Take a really slow breath in, hold it for a few seconds then let it out, but don't rush it." He adds. "Pressure can help. Keep squeezing your hands, or your knees, or anything that you can't mess up it's circulation." 

The Doctor looks at him for the first time, mind a fraction clearer - clear enough to be impressed that his tactics are working. 

"Don't stop until you can breathe properly." And she complies. It's roughly ten minutes before she's sitting straighter, wiping her clammy hands on her trousers, and looking around as if she's seeing her surroundings for the first time. 

"Erm..." The look on her face can't quite be called embarrassment, but it's close. "Thanks, Ryan. Can't remember having a freak out like that before. Really hope it doesn't happen again." 

"Well hey," Confident that she won't keel over Ryan takes a step back to provide some breathing room. "At least you'll know what to do if it does." 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really liked the idea of Ryan being the one to coax her through the panic, as he seems the most likely to have struggled with something of the sorts either in the past or present. Hope you enjoyed! Leave a review/prompt/or anything you think I can do to improve characterization


	3. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from kesomon: The DNA bombs in episode 1, Graham being super-freaked out because it sounds a lot like cancer ramped up to 11 and that's why he's so insistent on getting them out. Grace and/or the Doctor calm him down, depending on when the shock/delayed panic finally hits him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit shorter. I'm writing it right now to keep myself off of tumblr and instagram because I'm american and spoilers for the ghost monument are EVERYWHERE

Graham keeps one finger hooked inside his shirt collar to expose the blinking red light on his collar bone that he can't see with his own eyes, but the reflection of the light bouncing off a window across the shack wouldn't let him forget that it's there anyways. 

There's a ticking time bomb super-super-super-glued to his body, and the natural terror that comes with finding out you're about to die is all too familiar. Except this time it's not years, not months, not weeks or even days. He could have hours, he could have  _moments_. Each breath could be his last and he would have no chance to prepare. The not knowing is agony. He's absolutely mortified. 

Graham doesn't notice he's still staring at the reflection, tranced by the unthinkable, until a calm hand on his shoulder makes him blink and his shoulders jump. 

"She said she can sort them." Grace reprimands, as if he's being ridiculous to obsess over something she obviously registers as insignificant, but the hand that gives Graham's shoulder and empathetic squeeze carries understanding. After all, she'd been with him through the worst of it. 

Graham laughs bitterly, dropping his collar and shoving both hands in his pockets to resist temptation to peak again. "It's just like-"

" _No._ " His wife interrupts. "It's not like that. Not at all."

"How exactly?!" He's not being rhetorical. "I have an indefinite amount of time and there is absolutely nothing I can do to control it, except this time it's worse! Chances are we'll all be dead as a door nail by tea time, and you're alright with that?" 

Grace rolls her eyes. He was always so dramatic. "Alright with dyin'? Not necessarily. Alright with placing my trust in the woman with a decent track record that promises she can help? Absolutely. What other choice is there?" She looks him down and up, answering her question for the both of them. "You can do the worrying, let it distract you from what's important, but why bother when hope is right there?"

Right on cue there's a crash of stone on steel from behind the curtain accompanied by sparks and flames and the immediately following sound of a fire extinguisher. Graham and Grace jump in surprise.

"Tada!" The Doctor sweeps the curtain out of the way and steps into view wielding her finished screwdriver that sparks at the push of a button. From the Doctor's squeal the couple figures it's not supposed to do that. "Should be fine." 

Graham half pays attention as the Doctor spends the next minute or two rambling on about something he probably wouldn't understand anyways, while Grace watches their alien companion with fascination. 

Out of breath and most of the showing off out of her system, when the Doctor is granted no impressed comments on her skills she stops her fiddling and turns around. Graham looks distracted -  _really_ distracted. Grace's attention is back to him and she whispers words that the Doctor can't quite make out. 

"Everything alright?" 

Graham and Grace look at each other, the former obviously not planning to respond. "That's the thing, yeah?" Grace questions. "That'll get these bombs out?"

"Well it can do  _a lot_ more than that-" The Doctor scoffs, looking like she really wants to spend another half hour sharing every detail and function, but the tension of the scene seems to click and she answers straight up. "Yep. This is that thing. Who's first?" 

Graham stands up instantly, stepping forward so that he's in immediate range. "I am."

The Doctor looks to Grace for some sort of clue regarding Graham's shifted behavior, but the woman only looks at her with a nod to her husband, the silence perceived as "Go on, then."

The Doctor gives her the faintest of nods. She doesn't need an explanation - whatever's going through Graham's head seems like it'll be fixed in a moment. Either way, Grace has him taken care of and the Doctor respects that, beckoning Graham closer with her fingers. "Right, hold still." 

Graham pulls his shirt collar out of the way and squints, looking elsewhere and remembering how the Doctor had flown across the living room when tampering with the DNA bomb and hoping his fate isn't similar. She grips his coat at his shoulder and holds tight, probably anticipating the same thing, but when she presses the button there's a shock and a hiss that makes Graham no more than flinch. He drops his hand to his collar bone, confirming for himself. It's gone. He's not dying, well - no more than the rest of the population. 

The Doctor performs the same act on Grace and finally herself, shaking off the jolt of energy and spinning around to call into the next room, "Ryan, Yaz! Come in here a moment, I need to shock you." 

Ryan and Yasmin's confused protests in the background, Graham turns to his wife and exhales the rest of the tension out of his system. His wife smiles, kisses him quickly then smacks him on the side of the head.

"Told you you should trust her."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all give my tumblr a follow (@strikingtwelves) I gush about jodie a lot


	4. Don't Fall Asleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Haikha: I'd love to see something involving the Doctor's telepathy, maybe also involving her new friends discovering for the first time she's telepathic?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun one. One of my weaker chapters I feel but I'm happy enough with it!

_"Nobody. Move. An inch."_

The halls are dark apart from a red tone emanating from the base of the walls. An eerie highlight - guiding them through the space ship and leading in what could either be a victorious or devastating direction. Only time will tell, and the Doctor hopes time chooses today to be merciful. 

The four are frozen in place, backs against the wall and no one daring to draw in a breath deep enough to be satisfying. The Doctor holds her hand up, reminding everyone to stay very very still and  _very very quiet._ They're not supposed to be here, of course. That's usually how things tend to go. A miscalculation or the TARDIS trying to be funny - there's no telling. But they're here, they're trapped, they're in danger, and the Doctor's said  _"I have a plan"_ six times now, with a translation of  _"I'm working on it, stop distracting me."_

The ship's crew haven't revealed themselves yet, still traipsing about and seemingly taunting the stowaways with footsteps coming from multiple directions then showing no vessel. Graham has asked twice now if she's  _positive_ there are actually aliens on board and it's not just paranoia. Yes. She's positive.

A few minutes go by and the Doctor can sense the waves of neuroactivity growing further and further away, just about confirming her suspicion that she and her friends are being toyed with. No TARDIS, very little sense of direction - they're easy targets for capture or worse. 

"Come on." Seizing the opportunity she strides forward again, each step brisk with purpose but hardly making a sound. 

Ryan, Yaz and Graham all seem too spooked to ask anymore questions. It's a long silent walk, eventually leading to a locked door. A quick scan proves what she was hoping for - empty - and with a buzz the door unlocks and grants entry. 

Ryan is the first to sit on the floor, taking deep breaths to ease some of the stress from his system. Yasmin and Graham follow suit and the three look back and forth exasperated, exhausted and wrung dry from the tension. 

"Take a load off." The Doctor's finishes her examination of the room - a small space completed with nothing but two empty cupboards as if the room was in the process of being cleared out for alternate use. "We need to lay low a while until I can work out an algorithm to unlock Sector B. A deadlock is the only thing between us and the TARDIS. A pretty tricky  _only thing_ but still. Focus on the positives! Take a kip if you like, I'll wake you when it's safe to carry on." 

"Don't have to tell me twice." Yaz is already settling against the corner of the room with her arms crossed, head slowly nodding to one side, while Graham and Ryan look stunned that sleep is even a potential option. 

"Bit wired." Graham admits. "I'll keep a watch - or a listen I suppose."

"Yeah." Ryan nods his head rapidly. "Yeah, me too." 

The Doctor gives them a distracted thumbs up with the hand not holding the sonic. She presses her hands and forehead into the door, eyes shut. 

"...What are you -" Ryan starts over the sound of Yaz's immediate snoring. 

"Concentrating. Hush." The Doctor squeezes her eyes shut tighter, listening and feeling, trying to pick up any waves or signals she can but is met with next to nothing. Nothing helpful, at least. 

"Doctor," this time it's Graham,  _oh so rudely_ interrupting her practice again. 

" _Shh!_ " 

"No, Doctor I think there's-"

"Graham, I understand that the scenario is unfortunate and nerve wracking but the only way to undo all that is if you keep-"

"DOCTOR." It's Ryan's suddenly aware, alarmed outburst that catches her attention. "There's somethin' wrong with Yaz!"

There is, and it's very,  _very_ concerning. The Doctor whirls around to lay her eyes on Yasmin, no longer snoring, completely still, every muscle in her body tensed and straining against something invisible. 

"Yaz. Yasmin, look at me." On one knee she leans in to inspect her friend, furrowed brow and a subtle tremble to her body apparent upon closer view. "Yaz!" The Doctor shakes her shoulder and is met with no responding movements. Lifts one eyelid and is met with no reactions. Pats her face, now cool to the touch and the Doctor pauses, blinks, and clasps a hand over Yasmin's arm. Her eyes drift shut and two deep breaths later, she's reeling backwards. "Oh, Yasmin." Her hands dig into the blonde hair at her scalp, saddened and mortified. "Oh, Yaz I'm so sorry." 

"What?" Ryan goes wide eyed and shoots up to assess his friend himself while Graham hovers for a closer look. Something about _not again_ can be heard from under his breath. "What do you mean? What's wrong with her!" 

"She'll be alright." The Doctor reassures before panic can set in too much. Sleeves rolled up past her elbows she makes an adjustment to the screwdriver, points and thinks, frowns at the readings. "She's in agony."

" _What?_ " It's all Ryan can muster up initially. "Those two statements don't work with each other at all!"

"I know, I know." She's kneeling again, hands on Yaz's face, fingers aligned at her temples and eyebrows knitted in deep dedicated focus. "Give me a moment." 

Within split seconds it's a tsunami of fear, pain, and screams for help inaudible to the naked ear, but deafening to the Doctor's mind. Silently she's willing encouraging words to her friend, calming her, hoping she's at enough of a level of lucidity for something to sink in. The Doctor nearly gets forced out two or three times but presses on, sorting the negatives and putting a spotlight on the positives. 

Ryan and Graham can only watch in horror. Questions come later, trust comes now. Trust and - a hint of demand.  _Don't fail her,_ they're willing.  _Save her, you've got to._

The Doctor is shaking too, now. The strain on her own mind not too much, but taxing. Her eyes stay closed but she breaks mental contact just enough to calm the raging, interrupting minds around her. 

"The crew of this ship is telepathic. Uses it as a weapon, they've got her in a sort of waking coma. Can't move a muscle, but I think she can hear us. Or almost hear us, I'll keep you updated-" Her words trail off as the mental battle requires every ounce of her focus and strength once again.  _Come on, now. Not like this. Come back to us. You're stronger than you think. Fight it, Yaz. Fight it._

It's a quiet chaos that thickens the air. Ryan's holding Yasmin's hand and Graham doesn't miss the expression that drags his step-grandson's face into the deepest frown imaginable. A frightening mixture of deep care and utter terror, a look he's only witnessed once before when they both lost the person that meant more than anything. 

No one dares to move out of line or sigh too loudly as the Doctor walks the tightrope between minds. So far she hasn't fallen off. If she could just ......

Yasmin gasps so heavily it lifts her back up off the ground, breaths settling into rapid pants and her eyes attempting to process her surroundings. She rips her hand from Ryan's grip rolls away from the Doctor, and braces herself on hands and knees. "What - the  _bloody hell - was that._ " 

Ryan and Graham's sigh of relief is simultaneous and they sink in their seats, bodies heavy with adrenaline. 

The Doctor's gaze is yet to shift. She watches her friend closely, reaching out to take a hand in both of her own that Yasmin recoils out of instinct, still jumpy from the experience, but the short lived contact was all the Doctor needed.

"The link is broken. You'll be fine, but breathe slowly." She sinks against the wall and rests her forearms on her knees, needing a bit of a breather herself. "If you pass out we're back to square one." 

Yasmin still looks petrified, like she wants to repeat her previous question but isn't sure she wants to know the answer rather than accept her mental freedom. She half listens to Ryan, who's trying to keep his cool while still begging his friend to reassure him herself that she's okay. 

"Some weapon." Graham looks distraught. "Why didn't they just throw us into holding?" 

"No, hold on." Yaz has just about caught her breath, "What I want to know is how you did - whatever the hell you just did. I could feel you. In my mind... if that makes any sense." To the Doctor, of course it does. Ryan and Graham look at her incredulously as if she's just swallowed a spider.

"Oh yeah, did I forget to mention?" The Doctor wiggles her fingers in mid air. "Touch telepath. Had to give your brain an exit strategy, it was trapped in a cycle. Without me you would've been stuck blindly between terror and pain until it killed you. Merciless." She states, staring at the door as if it's the enemy. "And unnecessary."

"You're _telepathic_?" The question that comes in unison from all three of her companions makes her chuckle. 

" _Yes_ , and you're very welcome by the way." She looks to Yasmin, who's soft nod and thankful eyes respond on their own. "The good thing is that we learned a very, very important lesson here." 

"And what's that?" Graham pipes, "Don't go trespassing on alien spacecrafts?" 

"Nah, trespassing's the fun bit." But her spout of humor in the scenario falls flat and her eyes go dark. A part of her wants to shield them from the danger, but she's not naive enough to believe ignorance will be their savior.

"Ryan, Yaz, Graham, I'm gonna get you out of here. But until then,  _don't fall asleep._ "

 

 

 


	5. Regeneration. It Takes it's Toll.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Mand: Can you please write a chapter about The Doctor going through the aftermath of regeneration and the companions noticing something off? in the show Grace how she must be in pain and the Doctor said "you have no idea" and that stuck me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda took this to the next level, hope y'all like it!
> 
> By the way, I don't necessarily do prompts in order, I just pick whichever one I have the best idea for in that moment because it's more encouraging to write that way and helps me update frequently. So if it looks like I skipped your request, I probably didn't! The majority of what's been sent in I plan on writing sooner or later :)

"Ryan, Yaz, how are you with machinery - and heights?" 

It's a fair question asked from the base of the crane itself, looming over the three and inflicting the same uneasy feeling as an over-authoritative figure. The Doctor has a lot of respect for heights. They allow you to see the world around you from a broader perspective in more than one sense of the word. As well as the obvious... they can kill you. Respect. She has a  _lot_ of respect for heights. 

Ryan lets out a wary huff and takes a small step back out of instinct. Yaz looks tense but the Doctor takes special note of the glimmer in her eyes that shows a hint of excitement at the anticipation of a new challenge. 

She likes her new friends. 

As the Doctor reaches for the highest accessible bar from her place on the ground she's hit with a wave of pain and wooziness that causes her to double over for a moment, hand on the ladder the only thing preventing her from going too weak at the knees to stand. It's brief, thankfully, and she draws in a deep breath. "Fifteen stories." She estimates to herself, eyeing the top of the crane and letting out a breath that puffs out her cheeks. "Here goes nothing." 

She takes the first step vertically and it's way, way more difficult than expected. Has her balance always been this dodgy?

About five feet off the ground now and the Doctor can feel the vibrations against the metal of Ryan and Yaz beginning their own ascension. She looks down and shouts something intended for their ears, not her own. Good thing, too, because she's not entirely sure what she said. Looking down isn't a great idea, so she focuses her eyes on their destination. 

Unfortunately, it doesn't help. 

"Are you alright?" Yaz calls up, and it's a pretty good question given the Doctor's hands visibly struggling to secure herself to the ladder.

"I'll be fine!" But the next step is ill timed and poorly aimed. Her boot slips, her hands lose their grip and she falls five feet to the pavement. 

Stunned but otherwise unharmed, she doesn't bother moving for a second. Eyes shut, the Doctor can hear Yaz and Ryan's shoes hitting the ground next to her and the former's hands checking her for injuries. "Stop shouting." She complains in response to Yasmin's pointedly quiet voice asking her if she's okay.

"Well I can tell you one thing," Ryan rises from his crouching position. "You're starting to make me feel a lot better about my coordination." 

She cracks a smile at that, eyes still closed up until the point that she lifts herself into a sitting position. One hand on her head, a deep breath, and a low grunt of frustration. "Regeneration." She offers as an explanation, starting the process of getting back to her feet. "It takes it's toll." 

Yasmin is still on her knees, one hand elevated as if she's expecting the Doctor to tip over again. "Have you got a plan B? No way you're gonna make it up that crane." 

She looks a little offended, a little challenged, and a little stronger at the statement, fairly quickly reaching for the ladder again to reattempt her climb. 

" _What?_ " Ryan reaches for her shoulder to pull her away from the death trap but the Doctor shakes him off. 

"I'm fine!" She insists again. "It comes in waves. I've probably got a while before I go wibbly again."

"Probably?" Ryan challenges. 

" _Wibbly?_ " Yasmin parrots. 

But she's already three steps up, four steps, five steps, now settled into a rhythm that she doesn't dare break. Yaz and Ryan can be heard below, speaking to each other, but the wind in her ears prevents the words from being distinguishable. 

Almost there, about five more stories, and the Doctor's vision chooses pretty much the worst possible time to go half black with the agonizing sensation that appears deep in her chest. She gasps - loudly - and the perspiration on her palms is the straw that tells her she needs to take a break. 

Her friends are shouting something, volume increasing when she fails to respond but the words are still inaudible. The ringing in her ears overpowers everything, and when her legs start to shake she's officially frightened. 

"Hold on!" Yasmin's just a few steps beneath her now. "We're almost there, you've got to keep going. You can't fall from this high up." She second guesses herself, though, recalling the woman crashing through the roof of the train and popping up without a scratch. 

Better not take the chance. 

The Doctor still hasn't responded, or moved, or given any indication that she's even responsive besides the fact that she hasn't crashed ten stories. Yet. 

It's a long two minutes of just barely hanging on. Ryan and Yasmin directly beneath her, speaking urgently to each other, herself, she's not sure. The blackness fades, the blurriness somewhat clears, and the Doctor takes another step in her climb. 

Her boot slips but she doesn't fall, catching herself with a very small amount of strength and allowing herself to press her forehead to the cool metal. Almost there. Almost there. 

She takes another break. The tentacley thing zaps and buzzes from the crane next door and she  _knows_ she can't fall. Not for her sake, but for Karl's. He's defenseless and unworthy of the brutality of the Stenza. She won't fail him. The Doctor exhales as slow as she can, looks up, and presses on. 

It's a good while before the three reach the top. The Doctor all but drags herself onto the surface, instantly collapsing on her back and resting a hand on her chest as she struggles to catch her breath. 

The moment Ryan looks off the edge of the platform he's grasping for support, the thought of falling such a distance making him dizzy. Yasmin assumes responsibility and crouches over the Doctor, again, trying to assess her state. 

"I'm fine." What's that, the third time she's said so? Yaz takes note of the fact that  _apparently_ the Doctor can't be trusted with assessment of her own wellbeing. "Just need to - catch my - breath." 

"Are you in pain?" Yaz questions, frustrated when the Doctor acts like she didn't even hear her. The struggle and the grunts that come with hauling herself to her feet are enough of an answer. 

"Oi! Karl from the train! Up and over! Up and over!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow my tumblr - @strikingtwelves


	6. Welcome to Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from lovekernel: How about something with Yaz and the Doctor, in last nights episode when they wake up on the ships, the Doctor told her to go back to the medipod (?) What if Yaz doesn’t fully recover from being out in open space and feels ill or collapses and the Doctor stops spinning around for a second and helps her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels kind of like I'm cheating taking dialogue straight out of the show for these episode tags, but it helps me blend the rest of the chapter together better. I'm getting into the flow of things though so at least I don't have to rely on it! Plus it's 1:30am don't @ me
> 
> Also: Rosa is the most important, impactful, breathtaking episode in doctor who history and i love it so so much

"How can a planet be in the wrong place? It should have been back there where I scooped you up. We should be in it's gravity belt by now."

"Well, we're not."

"I can see that."

Yaz doesn't stand a chance at following the conversation between one unforgettable voice and another she's certainly never heard before. The ground beneath her shakes - quite violently - and the person-sized glass cylinder she's just now noticing encloses her slides open. "Hi. I can smell burning." The statement is aimless.

"You were right, she is still alive."

The Doctor, hands and focus preoccupied, watches out of the corner of her eye as her friend takes the first unsteady steps outside of safety. "Yaz, you need to stay locked in the medipod." She hears her ask something about Ryan and Graham but deliberately ignores it. There's no answer that'll provide any peace of mind. "There! The planet's there!"

Yasmin leans against the whatsitcalled - medipod? - and considers following the Doctor's instruction. She can't quite breathe right, and the handful of breaths that could be considered semi-successful are a challenging rasp. It's an nerve-wracking sensation, leaving her feeling extra uneasy. The chaos, the running, the shouting around her blurs into one giant overload. Stars dance on the edge of her vision. The voices become completely incomprehensible.

"Manual shield activation? Wow. This thing should be on Antiques Roadshow." Sudden movement in the Doctor's peripheral. "Yaz? Yaz!"

Her friend's head drops first then the rest of her body threatens to follow, but the Doctor is quicker than the pull of gravity - catching Yaz around the waist and expecting her to regain her footing. When her weight continues to sink the Doctor follows her to the ground, hand on the back of her neck to prevent an even slight concussion. A quick scan with the sonic, eyes wide, guilt unrestrained.

"I need oxygen!" She orders against common sense.

"I hope for the sake of me not having to whack you unconscious for being so stupid that you're not speaking to me. You're lucky I only have two hands." Epzo retorts, still trying to stabilize the crashing space craft and judging by the violent tremors still coming from the floor, he's failing miserably.

The Doctor, wary about leaving Yasmin's side, let's out an over-dramatic _I'll do it myself_ sigh and darts around to the opposite end of the pods, unhooking the oxygen mask from the wall and backing up with the extension in hand until it's long enough to reach her friend.

Yaz isn't moving. She'll be alright, the Doctor knows, but the vacuum of space is unforgiving and has it's impact on all victims; no matter what the length of exposure is. As she positions the mask over Yasmin's face her sensitive hearing picks up the sound of a racing heartbeat, slowly but surely easing back into an acceptable rhythm as the lost oxygen is replenished. This was a close one, and right off the bat, too.  _Great first impression._  But she'll be fine. Ryan and Graham will be fine. Everything will be fine. She'll keep them safe.

Epzo barks something, rightfully. It's quite the state they're in, and he needs all hands on deck.

"Just a moment!" The Doctor pats the side of Yaz's face, watches her chest rise and falls, willing her back into consciousness. "Come on, Yaz. Come on."

As soon as her eyes start to open a coughing fit puts a halt in the breaths that Yaz desperately tries to reclaim. She rolls over on her side, hand to her chest, but with a grunt of protest she's eased onto her back again.

"Big breaths. Deep as you can." The Doctor's face is inches away, watching intently and still holding the mask over Yasmin's mouth and nose. "Cosmic radiation exposure. It's a killer in more than one sense of the word.  _Can_ kill you, but handy dandy Epzo over here scooped us up just in time. Now it's just a metaphorical killer. More of a disabler. Temporary though. A butcherer that changes it's mind in the nick of time - no, that doesn't make sense either." She's distracting herself. "But you're gonna be fine. On the bright side, you didn't get space-hoovered!" The Doctor twists around to glance at Epzo, still struggling, then pauses long enough to  _re_ -remember the events leading up to the now and tuns back. "Oh yeah, and, welcome to space. We'll redo the introduction later - I promise it's not all scary. How you feelin'?" 

Yaz isn't following most of the chatter. Too much info, too many questions, too little energy to know where to start. Instead, she settles for a thumbs up. Her expression beneath the mask is evidently,  _rightfully_ distraught, but the tension in her shoulders is gone. She barely knows the Doctor and doesn't have a huge track record to base her feelings off of, but she trusts her. She can roll with it. This will make a hell of a story if they don't die. 

"Good." The Doctor sinks back onto her heels and pockets the sonic, visibly relieved. "You've got about sixty seconds to recover enough to join us in the front. We're about to blow off the back of this ship." She grins, ecstatic despite just about everything. "And again, welcome to space! Enjoy your stay." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALSO "never even heard of mooman beans" is the funniest line ever to come from anyone's mouth in the history of this mf show and no one can convince me otherwise


	7. Don't Fall Asleep (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from ReigningSunshowers: Doctor with a migraine, may or may not muddle with her telepathy??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if by this prompt you meant that as a result of a migraine her telepathy is compromised, this might be unsatisfying because I kind of ended up doing it in the opposite direction. 
> 
> I went ahead and slapped on a name for those unnamed telepathic aliens back in chapter 4 and decided to expand on it a bit and use them in this installment, because they might have the potential to be fun to work with in the future if I can get creative enough. I'm trying really hard not to unintentionally rip off the Teller from Time Heist.
> 
> So technically this chapter is a continuation of chapter 4, but chapter 4 isn't a necessary read to understand this one.

Everyone is half dead on their feet by the time they've reached the TARDIS. 

The past two days were a disorderly plight of heavy-eyed wandering or hiding, depending on the timeframe.  _Don't fall asleep_ , the Doctor had told them, and after seeing what happened to Yaz thanks to a mere attempted catnap, none of them would dare try and refuel with some shut-eye. _"The Tru'kiels are a clever bunch. You could be four rooms over making a cuppa and they'd snatch you under with a snap of their fingers. If they have fingers - never actually seen one before. Weaponized telepathy! Within a minute, you're in a paralyzed trance, as demonstrated by poor Yaz over here. Within five, you're toast. Don't be toast. Untoasted bread is better anyways. Less crunchy. Love a good sandwich."_

It was strenuous to say the very least. The adrenaline kept them going for a while. Almost the entire first twenty-four hours were spent in the tiny excuse of a room, little space to physically keep themselves wound up. The Doctor had no issue, but her human companions required rest to function - a concerning need at such a time. Graham was already sleep deprived, previous nights haunted by dreams of his late wife, the lack of sleep catching up with him at the worst time possible. 

They had to be so -  _so_ careful. The Doctor wasn't sure yet of the Tru'kiel's attack pattern, and she took zero chances. She'd keep them safe - she promised. Whatever the cost. 

There actually ended up being a cost. She didn't expect that. 

The four enter the warm familiarity of the TARDIS. Graham goes straight to bed, disappearing into the dimly lit corridor without a word. Yaz leans heavily on the console, head low, eyes already trying to shut in protest of the forty-something hours of straight consciousness. Ryan sinks to the floor to lay calmly on his back, not even worried about reaching one of the thousands of comfy beds aboard the ship. 

The Doctor - her head sags. Her eyes are half shut against the lights in the console room, movements carefully executed so as not to jostle herself too much as she sends the TARDIS safely into the vortex. 

 _A stand off_ is probably her choice of words for the telepathic vice she'd been caught in minutes before they reached the TARDIS. 

It was less of an attack though, and more of a parting gift - but the type of gift that ends up being a disappointing can of soup instead of something worthwhile. It was like the Tru'kiel had decided that two straight days of wakefulness, tip toeing and record breaking stress levels weren't enough penance for trespass. It was in the home stretch that they'd decided to apprehend the Doctor's mind; trapping her, forcing her to mentally fight her way out for a _long_ stretch of time until the link was broken. She'd sunk to her knees, relishing in the freedom, grieving for her friend that had to struggle with something similar two days prior. At least Yaz had a lifeboat to reach for. 

The Doctor closes her eyes, listens to the quiet breathing of her two remaining companions in the console room. Ryan sounds like he's asleep and Yaz probably isn't very far behind. 

Personally, she feels horrid. Two separate, unfortunate encounters with the Tru'kiel in such a small span of time did a number. Her head is pounding and her mind feels like it's underwater. Light burns straight through her eyes and only intensifies the discomfort, so she keeps them closed, head hanging low, trying not to go too physically weak from the pain. 

"Are you alright?" 

Yaz isn't asleep then after all, and the Doctor dares to open one eye, catching her gaze, then closes it again. "I've got an egg in my head." 

She hears Yaz shift against her place drooped against the console, voice much closer when she speaks again. "Excuse me?"

"You know," The Doctor's voice quiets, but even whispers are like gunshots to the brain. "A head egg." 

A beat as her friend tries to make sense of the words. "A head _ache_?" 

"Probably. That sounds right." Bit more than an ache though, she adds to herself. "I despise the Tru'kiel."

"Yeah," Yaz sighs out, spinning slowly to press her back into the edge of the console, her shoulder touching the Doctor's. Some level of understanding fills her voice. "Me too." 

The Doctor forces herself to keep her eyes open this time, breathing away the wave of dizziness the best she can. She releases her grip on the console and half glances at Ryan on the floor. "We should wake him. I've slept on this floor before - terrible for your back. Wouldn't recommend."

"Ah, he's alright." Yaz insists. "When we were kids I saw him nap in the most ridiculous places, most ridiculous positions, he's older now but -" As if to prove her point, Ryan starts to snore, marking her words as true. "- trust me. He's fine." 

The Doctor tries to nod but not much happens. She runs through a check list in her head. Graham's in bed, probably gonna sleep for a week. Ryan's alright for now, though she's still convinced he's in for a nasty back ache whenever he wakes. That just leaves one. 

"Are you feeling alright?" She questions. "Don't be too put off if you feel poorly. The Tru'kiel don't hold back, but you won't have any long-term effects from the attack."

Yaz lets out a breath that puffs out her cheeks as if she'd been considering that very fact. "I've never been so exhausted, but yeah, I'm alright. Are you? You look even worse off than the rest of us, and you're the one that can supposedly go months without sleep - which by the way, I still won't believe until I see."

The Doctor avoids answering directly. She  _will_ be alright, same as the rest of them, after having the opportunity to lick her mental wounds and sleep off the ramifications of the past two days. "We should probably follow Ryan and Graham's example and get some rest. You remember where your room is?" 

Yaz nods, eyes half shut. "Can you even make it to  _yours_?" 

The Doctor considers her state and almost replies  _yes_ out of instinct, but she really -  _really_ wants to go lie down, and isn't confident enough that she can walk in a straight line to turn down the opportunity to make the trek a little less punishing. "Lend me a shoulder?" 

The Doctor pushes herself away from the console, head swimming and drooping to one side as Yaz immediately guides the her arm around her own shoulders. Yaz herself isn't feeling too steady, but she's got a better shot than the Doctor making the trip solo. 

"Mm, hold on." Halfway across the console room the Doctor has to pause, waits for the dizziness to dull enough to take a step without falling. Yaz patiently waits, nudging her friend along again after a few moments of stillness. 

They reach the Doctor's room just about a minute later - conveniently placed as the first door on the left as soon as they reach the corridor. Yaz watches from the doorway as the Doctor falls into her bed, boots coat and all. 

She thinks she's already fallen asleep and turns to leave, ready to take the unusually heavy weight off of her own feet but pauses at the sound of the Doctor's voice.

"Thank you, Yaz. Let me know if you need anything." 

And Yaz smiles at that - can't help it, really. The amount of care the Doctor is capable of, no matter what the scenario, always warms her heart. She is and always will be eternally grateful for the opportunity to see the universe with someone so unique. 

Yaz smiles tiredly, pats the doorway just loud enough for the Doctor to hear, and grants a final sentence before shuffling off to her own bedroom. "You too." 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jodie had such good lines in Arachnids in the UK and I'm living for it


	8. Penance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Waver: It'd be quite cool if you wrote a chapter about the Doctor talking about Gallifrey/her past regenerations.
> 
> Prompt from whumpsie_daisy: Perhaps we could see how the Doctor tried to hide an injury from the gang after last night’s episode? There were plenty of opportunities for one with those blasters going off everywhere and a literal field of fire towards the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up combining two prompts for this one. This is another case of I got carried away and got all the way to the end of the fic before realizing I didn't fully live up to the prompts. I mean they're in there, but not really the main storyline. Don't stone me pls. This was a challenge but pretty fun
> 
> (Slight trigger warning as the Doctor kinda sorta allows herself to get hurt)

Cigar in the air, the Doctor's arm raised high above her head from where she stands with her boots embedded in sand. Everyone else hits the deck so to speak, but as she snaps her fingers she allows herself to embrace the heat of the flame, let it hurt, let it burn, and with her head bowed against the impact and her eyes squeezed shut she thinks,  _Is this what it was like for them?_

A hand in hers yanks the Doctor to the ground and she lets it happen, gravity doing the rest of the work and leaving her lying next to Yaz as the air continues to implode. She keeps her eyes closed and takes heavy, rapid breaths - the sting of warmth against her face is nothing compared to the pain in her chest. She opens her eyes and all she can see with her own eyes is fire, but her subconscious fills the space with screaming children. Mothers crying out. Families holding each other and then - silence. War turned to nothing but flame at her own hand. It's a terrible memory and her brain won't stop bringing it to life. The Doctor closes her eyes again, weaving the sand at her side between her fingers and allowing the memories to burn alongside the airborne, disintegrating adversaries.

She arches up enough to slide a hand around to the back of her neck, wincing and retracting as her fingers hardly grace the burns on her skin. Her hair is slightly singed and she feels a bit selfishly relieved that the majority of her hair had been blowing out of the line of literal fire. She's been bald before. Great comedy relief, but there's a time and a place. 

Anxious voices snap the Doctor back into reality. She sits up, fitting her hood snugly against the back of her neck to shield the conversation she'd rather have later. When she stands she catches Yaz's wary gaze and wonders how noticeable her brief, miniature epidemic really was. 

After a quick assessment that everyone's alright and a few marvels at the given scenario, the group treks on. Graham's aloud musings and a couple comments from Epzo grieving over his cigar go mostly unnoticed. The time war and the Doctor's impossible sacrifice are as fresh on her mind as they were the day it happened _._ She forces it deep down to where she can't find it unless she goes looking, and hopes she can keep her focus enough to get her new friends safely home. 

Ilin really tests her patience. The sorrow she tries to suppress slips through the cracks and leaves her grouchy and in a very  _not having it today_ mood, and when the tent disappears and leaves the four stranded in the middle of nowhere she wants to scream. She failed them, and she's honest about it. May as well own up now, seeing as it's apparently a recurring trait. 

When the wheezing of the TARDIS grows from just a hint to something unmistakable, she almost feels like she could cry. As she runs to the box and presses her forehead against the wood it feels like she's wrapped in the arms of a mother or child - it works both ways. Unconditional love. A sense of safety. A sense of understanding. Home away from home. It makes the ache easier to bear. 

Proudly the Doctor rambles about her ship, trying to answer the vocalized questions as well as the ones hanging in the air. She beams, watching Yaz, Ryan and Graham try to take in the drastic tear in all their scientific knowledge. 

And then, she realizes, it's time to take them home. She promised. A promise is a promise, no matter how unfortunate. 

The Doctor's hands secure the hood closer to her neck as she remembers the presence of the deep burns on her skin. A large part of her doesn't want to tend to them - she guesses why, but doesn't allow herself to elaborate. 

"I'm knackered." Ryan announces eventually, earning two hums of agreement.

"Home time, yeah?" Yaz asks, tilting her head and analyzing the Doctor's every expression, every slightest move. 

"Yep." The Doctor nods quickly and bites down on her lower lip. The pre-grief of losing contact with the people she's already grown so close to isn't very appreciated. Her hands sliding along the controls are deliberately slow and when she stretches to reach the lever her coat slides out of place and elicits an interruption from Graham.

"Geez, Doc, look at your neck. Or well I guess you can't look at your own neck -" He steps for a closer look. "Ryan, Yaz, look at her neck!" 

The Doctor grits her teeth against the prying eyes coming from behind and whirls around to press her back to the console. "It's not that bad." 

Against protest Yaz holds the Doctor's singed hair out of the way and pulls her hood down enough to grant better visibility. "It looks  _that bad._ " 

"Is that from burning up those talking rags?" Ryan winces. "Looks nasty." 

Uncomfortable, she shrugs away Yaz's hands and pushes her hair back into place. "Yeah. Wasn't quick enough. Better than it burning my face off." She doesn't like the way Yaz is staring at her, unable to look away as if she knows there's something more and is trying to read the secrets through the Doctor's eyes. 

"That'll scar." Graham says unhelpfully. "One of my mates spilled boiling water all over his hand once while making pasta. He thinks the story's a lot more entertaining than it is." 

The four fall silent for a few seconds before Yaz takes control.

"You've got a bathroom in here I'm assuming?" Yaz does a quick intake of the unfamiliar space around them. When the Doctor wordlessly points to the first door in one of multiple corridors, Yaz nods in that direction. "Ryan, will you get a damp towel or something?"

The Doctor opens her mouth to protest, admittedly appreciating the gesture but knowing there's no need. She has technology deeper in the ship that would restore her skin in seconds, but that's not the point. That's not what she deserves. Ryan's already disappeared into the corridor before she can say anything so she holds her tongue, temporarily defeated. 

She faces the console and half pays attention to the back and forth commotion coming from behind. There's a quick exchange between Ryan and Yaz at the other end of the room and then the latter is at her side again. "Have you got any sort of antiseptic?" 

The Doctor almost smiles. "There's no need." 

Yaz gives Graham and Ryan a look and they put themselves to use, disappearing from view in search of something to help her out. More than anything though, they're glad for the opportunity to explore. 

The console room quiets as footsteps fade into the background. Yaz touches the Doctor's shoulder, testing her boundaries, unaccustomed to the tension. When the Doctor doesn't show any sign that she's unwelcome, she pushes her hair out of the way again and lays the damp rag against the back of the Doctor's neck. 

Only one eye squints as if she's trying not to show she's in pain. 

"I saw you back there." Yaz breaks the silence, patiently waiting for the muscles under her hand to lose their tension before she continues to dab at the dried blood and charred skin. "You let it happen, didn't you?" 

The Doctor grips the edge of the console beneath her hands and her knuckles go white. "Dunno what you're talking about." 

"Your face did a thing." Yaz goes on. "You looked like you were somewhere else. You say you weren't quick enough but I think you were and you just-" she pauses, not wanting to push too far, and settles for rephrasing her earlier question. "Did you let it happen? Let it burn you?"

The Doctor exhales something shaky and unsure. It was a dignified question that deserved a response, but either she's not sure she has one or it's a line she simply doesn't want to cross. She's about to throw out careless words in hope they fall in the right order when Ryan and Graham reappear. 

"Why didn't you mention you've got an entire medical room for this stuff? Can't you just fix yourself up in there?" Ryan questions with raised eyebrows and a thumb gesturing to the corridor at his left. 

"You've got a  _swimming pool_?" Is Graham's offering, eyes wide. 

"Oh I've got at least  _six_ swimming pools. Or at least I used to, haven't gotten a chance to check out the rest of the redecorating." Her eyes flash with mischief and a hint of relief at the opportunity to distract from the question still hanging in the air. 

" _Whoa._ " Ryan gasps out. "Awesome." 

Graham doesn't miss Yaz's concerned and slightly confused gaze fixated on the Doctor, and he steps up closer to the console with his grandson trailing behind. "You alright, Doc?" 

Now realizing her ministrations are a bit more than useless, Yaz drops her working hands and balls the rag up inside her fist. "No, she's not."

The Doctor flashes her a look, feeling a bit betrayed, so desperately wanting to carry on and put the day and it's events behind them, but her side-eyeing holds no depth. She's too emotionally exhausted to fight anymore. 

Ryan narrows his eyes a bit. "Something's buggin' you." 

Yaz gives him a  _duh_ eyeroll. 

The three wait in anxious trepidation as the Doctor takes a deep breath. "There was a war back on my home planet. Devastating and very destructive. The whole civilization was in torment."

Everyone settles a bit, gathered around the Doctor and eager to listen. "What was it called?" Yaz asks. 

"Gallifrey." The Doctor's voice holds a bit of serenity at the reminiscence of her home world, but it's quick to fade. "Not this me, but another me, fought on the front line. Saw some -  _horrid_ things." She shudders. "Everyone was either dead or on their way to death. We had no hope, no successful enough way to fight back. We were sitting ducks." Her face looses all expression, all signs of emotion. "So I ended it." 

"Ended it?" Graham interrupts. "How'd you do that if you had no way to fight back?" 

It's strange how something so distant in the past can keep such a tight hold. The Doctor grits her teeth. "I blew up the planet. Killed everyone. My people and their attackers." 

The uneasy silence that follows leads her to a quick continuation.

"But it's not all bad," She's ready to move this along. "Had the opportunity a while later to right the wrongs. Pressed a reset button. It's a long story, but they're alive now. All of them. No war, no blowing anyone up. It all worked out in the end." 

Ryan's the first to contribute anything. "They're alright then. All of them?" 

"All of them." She confirms, and to the groups confusion this addition doesn't lighten her mood in the slightest. 

Ryan starts to speak but Yaz interrupts. "You fixed it, but it's not like that erased what you did from your memory." It's a statement, not a question. She can feel the Doctor's guilt radiating in waves. 

"Grief." Graham adds with a nod. "It needs time."

"What did you mean when you said 'another you'?" Ryan wonders aloud. 

The Doctor chuckles. "We're a pretty cool species, my lot. Huge cheaters. Not big fans of dying. When I'm too injured, ill or whatever to continue on, my whole body changes. Every cell, every inch, even my personality. All that stays the same is my memories." Fondly, she fiddles with the controls. "And my ship. Or well, not  _exactly_ the same, but close enough."

Graham snaps his fingers. "That's what you were telling Grace back in the warehouse wasn't it?" 

"And when we first met, you said something about being a white haired Scotsman." Yaz adds with a laugh. "I thought you were mad."

"You were Scottish?" Ryan snorts. "Then you probably  _were_ mad!"

"Oh, I was a lot of things." The Doctor allows the tension to fade from the atmosphere with a smile of relief. "It's a lottery. Never know what you're gonna end up with."

"How many times have you - you know. Changed?" Graham asks hesitantly.

The Doctor puffs out her cheeks with a quick exhale. "It's a bit of a debate, that. Somewhere around thirteen." 

"You've 'died' around thirteen times  _already_? You're too young to be that careless!"

"About that," she's fallen back into rhythm. "Not exactly young." 

The three pause, wide eyed and encouraging her to elaborate, but the Doctor just claps once and whirls back around to the console. "Right, home then! Let's take this beauty for a spin, shall we? Oh, and if any of you want to get changed there's a wardrobe back there. Fourth door on your right. Probably. I'm just guessing, so don't quote me on that."

Still eager to learn more but deciding to stick it on the back burner, Ryan and Graham trot in that direction with curiosity. Yaz aims to follow, but changes route halfway to snag a final one-on-one moment and tie up loose ends. 

She steps next to the Doctor, their shoulders almost touching. 

"You'll get yourself fixed up?" She clarifies, giving the wound on the Doctor's neck a wary look.

"Absolutely." She doesn't lift her head. 

Yaz looks in the direction Graham and Ryan had departed and drops her voice a couple notches, asking the third and final variation of the lingering question. "So why  _did_ you let it happen?" 

The Doctor's head droops a bit as if she was set and convinced on not talking about it anymore, but she knows the only way to end never ending suspicion is to confirm it. She provides her confession in hardly more than a whisper. "I suppose I wanted to know what it feels like." 

Yaz backtracks through everything the Doctor had told them minutes before until she figures out what she's referring to. "To burn?" 

She drags her nails against the controls and closes her eyes. "Yeah." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wayyyy angstier than I intended, and it felt pretty ooc but I did my best. I'm down to just one or two existing prompts that I'm planning on writing, so please please send more!!   
> Let the episode tags for the Tsuranga Conundrum flood in, because it looks like it'll be whumpy and of course I'm just gonna want to add to that. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, let me know what you thought :) ALSO I posted a separate one shot based off a prompt I got on here where Thirteen goes blind, so check that out. It's my favorite piece I've written so far so I'd love some more feedback!! It's called Worst Case Scenario


	9. Incapacitated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from AntinomyAvenger: can you do something where one(or all) of the companions get hurt and the Doctor takes care of them??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Tsuranga Conundrum was the bomb and next week's episode looks amazing. Thirteen with wavy hair? yes please
> 
> Update: I turned this into an exclusively Team TARDIS series. I initially planned to incorporate other characters and got a few prompts for some, but when I would try to write I just wasn't feeling it and couldn't come up with anything I was happy with. I'm really wrapped up in these four right now and exploring their characteristics and developments, so I'm just gonna stick with them. I'm sure I'll do something with others in the future though!

"Pull your shirt over your mouth and nose and  _don't stop walking._ We're all four making it out of here alive and well and I do not need you lot killing the mood."

"The mood was killed when your friend back there decided the only way to make you stop talking was to set the building on  _fire_!" Ryan's shirt muffles his voice.

"Where's the exit?!" Graham shouts over the crackle of flame while Yaz focuses on getting oxygen to her brain. There's not much to work with. 

"He's  _not_ my friend." The Doctor stops speaking so that she can hold her breath in order to keep both hands free. One wields the sonic, scanning for the best path possible and the other is clasped tightly in Yaz's, aware that she's struggling to breathe and giving her hand an encouraging jostle. She exhales quickly to instruct, "Yaz, grab Ryan's hand and Ryan, you grab Graham's. Don't let go. We can't get separated. We've been in here long enough."

The group holds tightly to each other and creates an unbreakable chain. The Doctor leads the way, hearts thundering and mind grasping for solutions. When the ceiling in front of them collapses she jumps back, shouldering Yaz by accident and causing her to stumble into Ryan. It's a domino effect and everyone nearly falls, already week at the knees but managing to keep one another upright. 

Holding her breath again the Doctor uses the sonic to gesture to another closed door, one of the few not  _entirely_ engulfed with flames, and she kicks it open and pulls everyone through. They're met with another hallway, another series of doors, more fire, and another disappointed physical deflation at the lack of windows. 

She looks back to find everyone with their eyes half shut, wobbly and relying on one another not to collapse - a method that'll fail quickly if they don't get some fresh air. 

They keep walking, but hardly manage. Every time they slow the Doctor gives Yaz's hand another tug which leaves the others no choice but to lurch forward as well. Her hearts are broken for them. They shouldn't be in this situation.

They round another corner and the Doctor sees it. A door, gloriously transparent, beautiful rays of actual sunlight breaching through and her shoulders drop in relief. It's their way out. She's about to shout in triumph when the ceiling caves and bursts, narrowly missing everyone apart from a stray pile of rubble that catches Ryan squarely on the head. Even if he were fully functioning the blow would be a consequent one and Ryan collapses to the floor, closely followed by Graham who's tapping his face and yelling for him to stand up. 

"Ryan!" The Doctor's voice is drowned out by the crash of more drywall and she flinches, shielding her face and moving closer to her companions, all the while still holding Yaz's hand who's hardly responsive. "Graham, can you lift him?" 

Graham shakes his head regretfully, hunched over his grandson and holding his hand tight. "I can't." 

The Doctor takes a slow deep breath that doesn't do her any good. She looks back and forth between the three, wide eyed and concerned, then snaps to a quick conclusion that she knows is their only option. With an arm around her waist she lowers Yaz to sit with the others, crouching herself and snapping her fingers to get the attention of those still conscious. "I will be right back.  _Right_ back. Do you trust me?" 

In her haze Yaz gives the Doctor the faintest of nods while Graham's is vigorous, hurrying her along.

The Doctor holds the eye contact for another moment before standing and sprinting away, leaping over rubble and dodging flame. When she steps in the fresh air she has no choice but to pause, hands braced on her knees as she takes several deep refueling breaths. A cough and a shake later, she's running for the TARDIS and bursting through the doors with zero finesse. 

"Hang in there, hang in there," She wills aloud even though her friends are nowhere near earshot as her hands trip over the controls. The TARDIS puts up a bit of a fuss, hesitant to land in such a catastrophic area but the Doctor's reprimands and emphasized lever-pulling force it to comply. "Oh, don't be such a baby. We'll be in and out in seconds." 

As soon as she hears the thud signalling that they've landed the Doctor curses her own piloting accuracy. "Close enough I suppose," She says aloud once the doors are open and she sees Graham over Ryan, both unconscious, and Yaz slumped against the wall with her eyes almost shut. 

She throws herself to her knees and tries to rouse them. "Five steps. The TARDIS is five steps away." She shakes Graham's shoulder, then Ryans, then looks desperately at Yaz. "Come on, gang." She can see in Yaz's eyes that she's barely hanging in there but in no state to stand. Brow furrowed and palms sweaty the Doctor sinks back onto her heels and starts with Graham. She's stronger than she looks, but as she hooks her arms under his and drags him off Ryan and towards the TARDIS, it's a strain. 

The Doctor lays him on the floor and quickly checks that he's breathing before running out for a second time. "Need to start packing lighter." She jokes to herself, minding Ryan's probable concussion as she hauls him backwards and depositing him next to Graham. Same as before, she makes sure he's breathing before leaving his side and darting out one final time to crouch next to Yaz who's followed the example of the others and slouches in a disturbed sleep. With relative ease the Doctor manages to lift her completely into her own arms and trots into the TARDIS, easing her onto the floor next to the others then slamming the door shut. 

She pants, bows her head, and allows herself to relish in her victory. A groan from the ship regains her attention and the Doctor runs back to the console, freeing them once and for all and leaving the TARDIS drifting safely in space. 

She doesn't like how quiet the console room is. It's too full to be silent.

The Doctor rubs her hands together briskly then drops to her knees at her friends' side. She checks everyone's pulse, attempts to rouse them to no avail. Quietly she instructs the TARDIS to up the oxygen levels and she sinks back a bit, assessing the situation. She's too tired to carry them all individually to the medbay unless there's absolutely no other choice.

Remembering Ryan's head injury she hustles into the medbay and returns a moment later with a few supplies bunched up in both hands. She sits cross-legged next to him and brings a damp cloth to his head, replacing it with an antiseptic patch once the blood is cleared away. With a hand over his chest she assesses his breathing once more, relieved to find it isn't as much as a strain on him as it was before. Satisfied for the moment, she moves on. 

Graham could be worse off. He has a few scattered burns but no more than the others, and nothing more severe than her equipment can handle. She knows that elder humans tend to be more vulnerable, but he's a strong one. The Doctor's pleased to find his breathing has eased as well. Two down, one to go. 

She scoots a bit to kneel at Yaz's side, who stirs with her brow furrowed and eyes still shut as soon as the Doctor touches her arm. "Wakey wakey." She encourages hopefully, patiently watching her friend pull herself out of her state. 

"Doctor?" Yaz lifts her head a bit, squinting at the Doctor with apparent confusion until her gaze falls on the two men unconscious at her side and the memories return. "Oh my god, are they okay?"

"Yes." She's quick to assure, placing a hand on Yaz's head to guide it back down. "You're all fine - or at least you will be. I can get you sorted in the medbay once we get there but I don't make the best pack mule at the moment." She smiles awkwardly and apologetically. "Think you can stand?"

Yaz's eyes stay fixed on Ryan and Graham longer than it takes her to turn her head back to face the Doctor. She acknowledges the question with distracted delay and nods, slowly elbowing herself upright and allowing the support against her back.

The Doctor hooks an arm around Yaz's middle and braces herself to bring both of them upright, not loosening her hold until Yaz manages to stop swaying. Even then, she doesn't let go. 

"How'd we get into the TARDIS?" Yaz asks, voice hoarse and question punctuated with a series of coughs that causes her to stumble. 

The Doctor grips her tighter and urges her on, knowing she's eager to rest. "Put it in park against it's own better judgement and dragged you three in. You're all a lot heavier than you look, by the way." 

Yaz acknowledges her with no more than a weak laugh.

They reach the medbay, completed with four beds ready and waiting and the Doctor eases her friend onto the nearest one. Immediately Yaz lays back, arm covering her mouth as the coughs return that burn her lungs.

Quickly the Doctor disappears from her field of vision and returns with one hand holding an oxygen mask that she settles over Yaz's mouth and nose. She picks her hand up, replacing her own to hold the mask in place and steps back with a satisfied nod. "I'll be back in a jiffy." 

She flies back to the console room to find Graham halfway conscious, propped up on one elbow and worriedly shaking Ryan's shoulder. 

"He's alright." The Doctor is quick to assure, kneeling on the floor on the other side of Ryan and in Graham's field of view. To confirm what she already knows she uses her sonic to scan his grandson head to toe. "He's got a concussion but it's not too severe. Other than that it's just a nasty case of smoke in the lungs, not to be confused with Smoke in the Sun by Renee Ahdieh. I think that's a book. Could be a song though, or a New York Times article on apocalyptic possibilities." Graham's tired, confused stare tells her to get to the point. "He's alright, Graham. Everyone's alright." 

Right on cue Ryan begins to stir, bringing a hand to his temple before his eyes have even opened. 

Graham's more awake now, looming over Ryan and tapping his cheek. "Come on, mate. Rise and shine. We're back in the TARDIS." 

The Doctor rests her hands on her knees and watches the two speak quietly to each other, questions and answers being thrown to and from both directions. She starts to butt in every now and again but forces her mouth shut out of respect for the comfort and reassurance that a close family member is best qualified to provide. She manages to keep herself from interfering until Graham starts to help Ryan sit up.

"Where's Yaz?" Ryan asks quietly to mind the pounding in his head, showing increasing worry as his eyes scan the console room. 

"She's in the medbay already." The Doctor assures. "Which is exactly where you two need to be. Up for a quick walk?"

Ryan huffs at the mere thought but forces himself to nod. "Yeah."

"Graham?" She glances over.

"Yeah." He sighs out, putting an arm around Ryan's shoulder and shakily bringing both of them to their feet.

The Doctor trails slightly behind them as they inch down the corridor, not entirely convinced they can make the trip. She only takes the lead to show them which doorway is the correct one, then rushes to stand pointedly by the beds that she gestures to with a nod. "Make yourselves at home."

Graham focuses on putting one foot in front of another until he has Ryan safely seated, then allows himself to fall into the closest bed and close his eyes out of exhaustion. 

"Yaz." Ryan's in the process of lowering his head to the pillow when he sees her. "You alright?" 

Drawing herself out of a brief doze and opening her eyes, Yaz's lips curl into a tired smile when she sees him. "I'm good. You?" 

He nods and exhales deeply, feeling a lot more at ease and allowing himself to lie back. 

The Doctor pulls two more oxygen masks from their storage spot and settles one onto Graham's face, then Ryans. "Right, then. Deep breaths, everyone." And she whirls around, shuffling through cabinets and drawers to collect a variety of tools. From behind she can hear the blend of coughs, muffled by masks, occasionally followed by an uncomfortable groan or wheeze. She shakes her head, disappointed in herself for placing them in danger, and setting to do everything possible to make up for it. 

"How did you manage to not get affected, then?" Graham asks through the plastic as the Doctor walks back in their direction. "Is that some weird alien thing?" 

"No, it's not a weird alien thing, it's a very  _cool_ alien thing, thank you." The Doctor dumps her arm full of bits and bobs onto the fourth bed and starts to rummage through the pile until she finds the small pair of scissors. Starting with Graham given he's the closest, she steadies his arm with one hand and starts to cut away at his sleeve. "I have a respiratory bypass system that I can activate when I need to either go without breathing for a bit or filter out things I shouldn't be breathing in. Smoke is a tricky one, so today was mostly a lot of breath holding." She dumps the scraps of shirt onto the floor. "Hardly affected me at all." 

"That's just cheating." Ryan adds with a chuckle. 

"Yeah, that's no fair." Yaz agrees. "How come we have to be all beaten up and you get strut around?" 

"Because I'm  _not_ strutting around, I'm taking care of you lot and if I were incapacitated there would be no one to do that now, would there?" She holds a vaguely gun shaped device above Graham's arm that emits a blue ray stretching about half a foot across, and guides it over his skin. The scrapes and burns dissipate by the time the device finishes it's sweep. Graham holds up his arm to marvel at it while the Doctor repeats the same action in other areas. "Cool, right?" 

She moves along to Ryan, pausing long enough to peel the antiseptic plaster from his head and smile at the sight. "How's the head?" 

He raises his hand to touch the spot and nods, impressed. "Better." 

The Doctor encourages him to roll on his side so she can tend to the burns on the back of his shoulder, then settles him on his back again to tend to the rest. "Alright?"

"Alright." He confirms, looking far more comfortable. 

Last but not least she sits on Yaz's bed and looks her up and down, holding her arm up to examine it then straining her neck to check for other injuries. Yaz was probably the luckiest out of the lot - a small victory but a victory nonetheless. She cuts away the parts of her shirt necessary to reach the charred skin and a blue light and a whir from the device later, the skin is fully healed. 

Yaz settles deeper into the bed and confirms with her own eyes that all visible physical signs of their trying day have disappeared. "Thank you." She says quietly, holding the mask away from her face long enough to do so to assure that she's heard. 

The Doctor smiles, full and wide, and places her hand over Yaz's to guide the mask back down. She looks over at Ryan and Graham to find them already starting to doze. "Sleep it off, gang." She stands to get a confirming view of the three of them once more. "There'll be a platter of custard creams waiting when you wake up."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun with this one. Thanks for reading, let me know what you thought!
> 
> (I didn't save a backup of this and when I was posting I screwed up and thought I lost it and I started nervous sweating bc i spent like half my day on this but phew we good)


	10. Resus One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from ValkyrieCain: The Doctor being injured in the Tsuranga Conundrum has such whum(p) potential. Merge it with the angst levels of chapter 8 and there's a lot we can do. Essentially: the Doctor is more injured from the sonic mine (or maybe her running around agitated her injuries) and after trying to hide it, Team TARDIS finds out.
> 
> Anonymous Tumblr Prompt: Hi! I was wondering (if it’s not to much trouble) if you could do a chapter for Tsuranga Conundrum because The Doctor kept saying that something hurt, and it seems like after that episode is a good time for some Hurt/Comfort!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These prompts are essentially the same so I'm using both. Gonna try to knock out the episode tags for the Tsuranga Conundrum before Demons of the Punjab airs.

Three hours of quarantined detox before they're allowed to leave the ship and board Resus One. The Doctor's exchange with the investigator is a brief showering of praise for Mabli's performance despite this only being her second tour aboard Tsuranga. She requests that the medic be promoted, her strength and stability in dire circumstance only half of what proves her capability. The investigator explains that the necessary trial run of a minimum of twenty tours is required in order to properly evaluate a medic's skill level, but assures her that they will pass her high praise along to those in charge and acknowledge Mabli's services. Satisfied enough, the Doctor nods and smiles appreciatively.

Right as the investigator is turning to leave the Doctor rushes up to give them a tap on the shoulder, one hand still pressed against her burning side. "Quick question, Mabli mentioned our teleport back to Seffilun 27 was being booked. Bit of a time sensitive scenario on our hands, think you could hurry things along?" 

The investigator shakes their head. "All of you are required to be admitted into Resus One for assessment before we can grant you transport approval. Level four quantum teleportation can be damaging to vital organs if the passenger is in too much of a weakened state, hence why there were none on board Tsuranga. We were supposed to be upgraded to level six by now, but the economy's in shambles as we all know. Bit tricky to get the latest around here, but we make do." 

The Doctor takes a second to process. Four days, plus an additional three hours before they were allowed to leave the medical ship was frustrating enough. She has no reason to stick around any longer. Everyone is safe and in capable hands. The claustrophobia makes her feet itch. "And if the patient is deemed too weak?" 

"Then you'll be required to remain on board until fully recovered." 

She nods, distracted and avoiding eye contact, then forces a pained smile. "Got it. Thank you." She watches the investigator leave with disdain - not for them of course, but for her own biology choosing a terrible time to be so disappointing. She should have listened to Astos when he said running could disrupt the ongoing healing process - not that she could have done much less of it even if she wanted to.

She takes advantage of the turned backs in the room to double over on herself, face scrunched in frustration. "Come on, spleen, get it together. We have to get home." She can see Yaz, Ryan and Graham all seated separately with their own designated medics running scans and reading positive diagnostics aloud. She's grateful they'd taken the weakest part of the blow - she had intentionally remained in front to accept the worst. She doesn't regret it, she'll take a punch for them any day. But she wishes she had more than ten seconds back on Seffilun 27 to think. Maybe she could have figured something out - kept them all safe. 

Doesn't matter now. What's done is done. 

As soon as she sees her friends rising from their seats and heading in her direction, she straightens. 

"Cleared for flight duty, we are." Graham announces once in earshot. 

"Have you been checked out yet?" Ryan asks with his hands in his jacket pockets. "Can't leave until then."

She holds back a grimace. "Just finished speaking to the investigator, so not yet. They'll get around to me eventually." 

Yaz furrows her brow. "Want me to fetch someone? You're lookin' pretty pale." 

The Doctor makes a point to stand even straighter and force her hand away from her side, arms wide and gesturing to herself head to toe. "Me? I'm good. Did they clear all three of you?" 

Yaz nods and looks to Ryan, who confirms as well. "All  _four_ of us have to be well enough to use the teleport, though, at least that's what they told me."

"Yeah, I know." A look of worry crosses her face that she tries too hard to mask. "We have to get back to the TARDIS. I don't trust these junk galaxies, too many scavengers with no respect for higher technology." 

"Then you should get checked so we can get out of here!" Graham insists eagerly. 

"No." She regrets how quickly the word slips out. If four days of sleep wasn't enough for her biology to correct itself then who knows how much longer she'll be stuck given that the pain is even worse than it was when she first woke up. She doesn't think she can take another minute, let alone  _days._

Yaz takes a step forward when she notices the Doctor's sturdiness begin to falter. "Are you sure you're okay?" 

"I'm fine!" Her volume increases with the subconscious need for everyone in the room to be informed just how 'fine' she is. She eyes the corridor to her left that leads to the teleport pods, coming to a quick, roguish decision. "Come on, we'll see ourselves out. It'll be fine." 

The Doctor doesn't notice that she isn't being followed as she takes the first wobbly steps, nor does she acknowledge the shouts of concerned protest. Quick footsteps sound from behind followed by Yaz's hand on her shoulder, who grips desperately at the smooth material of her coat as the Doctor falls to the ground with a gasp of agony. 

"Doctor!" 

For a moment -  _just_ a moment the Doctor allows herself to catch her breath, palms braced against the floor and her forehead pressed against the merciful coolness it provides. "I'm fine, I'm fine." She hears footsteps thundering out of hearing range, presumably Ryan and Graham fetching help that she doesn't need. Or want. One of those.

She tries to rise to her feet but even her arms and legs combined won't support her weight and she crashes back down, this time with a shout as the pain increases tenfold. Yaz's distinct hands are gripping her shoulders and she speaks calm, encouraging words that the Doctor can't quite make out. Movement. Movement is necessary, and much preferred given the discomfort of her face smushed into the floor. She's both grateful and mortified when Yaz takes the liberty of rolling her onto her back, eliciting another gasp that - _wow._ Bad idea. Deep breaths aren't an option either.

Suddenly there are foreign hands on her arms, trying to pull her upright and the sound she emits is only just shy of a scream. Equally foreign voices of an unknown quantity express their insistence and she winces at the hot breath filling her nose, attempting to twist her head away in the annoyance she somehow still manages to experience. 

"Stop!" A gratefully less unfamiliar voice calls, but not one that provide much comfort. "She's one of the sonic mine victims. Her organs are struggling to stabilize. Moving her improperly could prevent them from settling and cause irreversible damage. I can take it from here, she's my patient and I'm familiar with her injuries." 

The Doctor barely manages a sensation of pride at the confidence in Mabli's voice, so far from the previous timidity. She's grateful when the hovering bodies and stench of breath fade into the distance. 

A quick verbal exchange is made that she struggles to make out and she forces her eyes open to gain better understanding. It takes her a moment to process - the lights of the medical bay much brighter than she remembers - but her eyes manage to focus on Ryan and Graham, several paces away and in evident distress as they're forced at a distance by the gloved hands of presumable Resus One orderlies. 

"Doctor, can you hear me?" Mabli's face swims into view and the Doctor slowly turns her head in order to make eye contact, but it only lasts a moment. The medic is out of sight once again, but she feels the presence of fingertips on her wrist and Yaz's hand pillowed behind her head to protect it from the hard floor. 

"TARDIS." She forces out, turning her head just a bit more to flash Yaz a look of desperation and unfamiliar terror. "We have to - TARDIS." Her attempt at a sentence falls flat and causes her vision to blacken at the edges. Her eyelids start to flutter shut but a hand tapping her face forces them back open. 

"No passing out." Mabli instructs, rising to her feet urgently and calling back as she sprints to another section of the craft. "Keep her awake! I'll be right back."

Every breath is unsatisfying, and attempting to compensate by increasing the speed of her shallow pants only makes the dizziness more pronounced and harder to ignore. She longs to close her eyes, slip under and allow her situation to be someone else's problem for a while, but the thought of her ship being torn apart an entire galaxy away sends a shot of adrenaline through her system. 

Yaz slips a hand around the back of the Doctor's neck to  _very_ gently lift it to rest against her knees. She keeps one palm pressed against her cheek to stabilize her movements, fingertips of the other hand swiping the hair out of the Time Lord's eyes then tapping her forehead. "Hey you, look at me. No drifting off until I know you'll wake up again." 

The order has the potential to bring the Doctor to a smile, but a ghost of one is all she manages before falling back into a deep scowl of agony. "'m fine. Just need -  _ah!_ " This wave forces every last bit of oxygen she's held onto back out and she finds it very -  _very_ difficult to replenish. 

The voices shouting her name and the hands shaking her shoulders aren't enough to keep the blackness from winning out. 

* * *

 

Only one visitor was allowed in the Doctor's private patient's quarters at a time. The course of a full day and a half is spent in shifts between Ryan, Graham and Yaz, each keeping an overall unnecessary watch over her as she sleeps through fever spikes and cardiac anomalies. Swarms of medical staff come in and out, halfheartedly explaining each situation as they solve it, attempting to keep the Doctor's friends well informed.

It's Yasmin's watch and hour thirty-three when the Doctor's eyes fly open.

"How long was I out?" 

Yaz immediately stands and crosses the short distance in an instant at the sight of the Doctor pushing the blanket off her body and attempting to lower her feet to the floor. Her eyes are vacant - deprived of all rationality and glazed over with potentially self destructive determination. Yaz speaks quick, racing to settle her back down before she has the chance to attempt to stand. "Don't get up. Mabli says you have some sort of infection from the disrupted healing process which is  _very much_ your own fault, by the way. Don't make it any worse." 

The Doctor's breaths are shallow with panic, eyes wide and demanding with no regard for Yaz's instruction. "How long-" Deep breath, shaking hands clutching her knees. "-was I out?" 

"Two days." 

She groans, hunched over and kicking the blanket off her legs, all but rolling off the bed and only kept from crashing to her hands and knees by Yaz's hands forcing her back. "Yaz," she gasps desperately. "We've been here too long. The TARDIS - it's too vulnerable. I've only just got it back, I can't-" 

"-Lose it again, I know." Yaz heaves the Doctor back into a half seated position and squeezes the life out of her upper arms, giving them a shake when the Doctor only looks past her. "Oi. Look at me." It takes a moment to recapture her attention but as soon as their eyes meet, she takes advantage without missing a beat. "I hear you, okay? I know by now how much it means to you but listen to me," She's losing her again, the Doctor's gaze faltering away. "Doctor,  _listen._ You're hurt. Badly. There's an entire crew standing out there insistent that you don't leave until you've been taken care of, not to mention me, Graham and Ryan all ready to give you a smack if you do anything stupid. You can't use the teleport in a state like this - it could kill you." 

The Doctor scoffs, trying to pull her arms out of Yaz's grasp but she holds tight. 

"I don't care how insistent you are that your biology is superior enough that you'll be fine." This catches her attention again, eyes beseeching in wonder. "Been around you long enough to know how stubborn you can be. You're not thinking clearly." She watches her face closely, pale and dotted with perspiration, and slowly drops her hands down to clutch the Doctor's. "Doctor, you have absolutely no choice but to stay here until you're well enough to travel. Every time you take a step  _you_ and  _you alone_ are prolonging that stay. Is that what you want?" 

The Doctor doesn't speak again until she's forced her lungs to cooperate. She takes charge of clutching Yaz's hands now, desperate to convey the worry that she doesn't understand why she's the only one finding justification in. "If the wrong person finds the TARDIS before we do, they could rip her apart. Do you understand what that means, Yaz? No TARDIS, no way home. You'll never see your family and friends again - neither will Ryan and Graham. Is that what you want?"

"Of course not!" Her agitation and despair only increases. "Why can't you see that that's a risk we have to take? Doctor, you don't get to be in control this time." She emphasizes her previous statement with a sharper tone. "You have  _no_ choice but to stay here until you recover. It's not a fact that the TARDIS will be gone when we get back to the junk planet, but it  _is_ a fact that if you step out of this room then Ryan and Graham will be the first in line to plop you right back into bed. You're outnumbered here, Doctor. You  _have_ to rest." 

The Doctor's slightly taken aback, the words sinking in just enough for her to cease struggle all together and fall against the elevated head of the mattress. She almost apologizes, but the frustration runs too deep. 

She takes this opportunity of partial awareness to evaluate herself head to toe. She remains clad in her original attire minus her coat, boots and suspenders that rest on a table in the corner of the quarters. There's a patch beneath her collar bone that she raises her fingertips to in assessment. "Physiology regulator - but they shouldn't have one for my species." 

"It's the closest they had." Yaz explains, seating herself on the edge of the bed. "Very limited supply of two-hearted aliens, apparently. They only have regulators for Apa... Apasomething."

"Apalapucians?"

"That's the one. Said it's close enough that your body should figure the rest out, it's just to give it a nudge in the right direction."

The Doctor drops her hand. "Time Lords have regenerative healing abilities. Usually we only need to sleep for a few days, depending on the severity, and then we're fine."

"That mine hit you hard." Yaz adds. "So, Time Lord? That's what your species is called? Bit posh." 

The Doctor nods, missing the attempted humor in her voice and obviously not prepared to discuss the topic any longer. She raises a hand to her forehead, wincing at the heat and wiping the sweat off her skin with the corner of her shirt. "Am I warm? I shouldn't be."

"Infection." Yaz restates, testing the Doctor's temperature with a palm on her cheek. "It was worse yesterday."

"That's something, at least." She sighs heavily and worms her way up a little higher on the mattress, then looks around a moment before gesturing to something with a nod. "Hand me that monitor, will you?" 

Yaz stands to pry the mounted device away from the wall and sits next to the Doctor to observe the results. The diagrams and foreign terminology are useless to her. 

"Could be worse," The Doctor muses, swiping from one reading to the next, only looking up when a set of footsteps catch her attention.

"It's about time you woke up, you had us worried sick." Graham hovers over her shoulder in attempt to read the diagnostics that he has no more luck than Yaz did at deciphering. "What's the verdict?" 

The Doctor runs a hand across her face and dumps the tablet at the foot of the bed. "I just need sleep."

"Yeah, you do." Ryan chips in, hovering in the doorway. "That's what everyone's been tellin' you." 

She flashes him a half annoyed look and folds her arms over her chest, self conscious to the prying eyes. "I'm better." She attempts to encourage, thankful that this time it's not a lie. 

* * *

 

The next time she wakes up it's to an audible whir of a scanner held over her wrist. Mabli's first few words don't register as the Doctor grasps the end of consciousness.

The panic nearly returns but she forces it back, instructing her own voice to remain as level and calm as she can manage. "How long?" 

"Just a few hours." Mabli assures, setting the Doctor's hand back in her lap. "A few more and you should be good to go." 

The Doctor sinks a little further into the cushion beneath her back and lets her eyes flutter close, that slight bit of relief soothing her mind enough to drift back under. 

* * *

Four hours later, she wakes to three faces hovering above her own. Ryan holds her coat, Graham holds her boots and suspenders, and Yaz is already tugging the blanket off of her legs. 

"Good morning. If it is morning. Or is it always night time in space?" Graham's only somewhat rhetorical questions give her something to latch onto and with her eyes closed, but mind managing to wake up, she mumbles out a half an answer. 

"Planet's have have their own suns Graham, space doesn't. There is no day and night, it's just space." She squeezes her eyes shut tighter before trying a couple experimental blinks until she adjusts to the light. 

"Mabli says you're alright now." Ryan informs, and the Doctor sleepily moves a hand to her chest to find the regulator removed. 

"You might be a bit out of it," Yaz adds, sitting down by the Doctor's shoulder, eager to elaborate on the good news. "But you're cleared." 

She shoots upright, the lightheadedness dull enough that she manages to hold the position. "Really?" 

All three of them laugh and Ryan and Graham offer her the discarded pieces of her outfit. "Ready to get out of here?" Ryan drops the coat in her lap.

The Doctor presses against her side experimentally, then rubs the sleep from her eyes with her lips pressed into a thin, nervous a line. "It's been nearly a week. The TARDIS-"

"Is going to be fine." Yaz assures. "Let's hit the road so you can see for yourself, yeah?" 

She swings her legs over the side of the bed and clips the suspenders to her trousers, slips both feet into her boots and starts shrugging her coat back onto her shoulders. "Is the teleport booked?" 

"Ready and waiting." Graham claps his hands and twists them together. "Feeling alright?" 

The Doctor rises to her feet, legs a bit wobbly due to days of inactivity, but she gives each one a shake and a hop until they regain the confidence to support her weight without fail. "Well come on, then! Tired of waiting around for you three. Race you to the teleport?" 

"Maybe you shouldn't be running quite yet-" Ryan starts, but the Doctor is already jogging out the door and increasing impressive speed, calling back something about slow pokes and the half marathon she won in the year thirty-thirty. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three rewrites and eight cups of coffee later I pulled this chapter out of my ass. I don't know if it's the fact of it being so dialogue heavy that I struggled so much, and I'm still not happy with it, but I've accepted my defeat


	11. Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt from tapdancingdalek: might I request something with nightmares? Featuring Yaz and/or the Doctor?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time in a while writing something that isn't in the Doctor's POV, so I hope this came out alright.

Yasmin Khan has always had a very vivid imagination. As a child, she was praised for it. As an adult, she dreads it. 

It always led to a big inconvenience at childhood sleepovers when her friends wanted to watch a scary movie, or her younger sister would jump out of a closet and scream in her face. It would take her far longer than she would like to process that whatever she was scared of wasn't a true danger, just a manifestation of the irrational fears that would paint themselves in bright colors right at the front of her mind. Every time she would close her eyes and see those images flashing to life in the form of nightmares, she was well aware each time that it wasn't real - she was safe - she was fine, which only would lead to increased frustration when the self reassurance wasn't enough to calm her heart racing inside her chest. 

In addition to her passion for helping people and her contentment with being in charge, that was one of the reasons she became a police officer in the first place. Yaz has never been one to run screaming from her problems. She acknowledges where growth is possible and does what she can to move in the right direction. What better way to face your fears than to risk your life? 

When police training only lacked the adrenaline she longed for, she asked for an assignment that would test her. She never expected it to lead to a life of time-space travel, but every time she experienced terror at the sight of an alien face covered in human teeth, or a giant spider stalking in her direction, she was able to remind herself that this was  _practice._ There will always be something bigger and scarier in the universe, and she's determined to have the capacity to face it and sleep soundly the following night. 

Yaz seats herself in a console room chair that she's pretty sure wasn't there yesterday and half listens to the three-way banter coming from Ryan, Graham and the Doctor. Her legs feel the consequence of four days of inactivity followed by hours of purely adrenaline fueled life saving. At the end of the day, she's satisfied. All four of them made it to and from Tsuranga in one piece and the sense of victory still buzzing in her chest is something she doesn't think she'll ever get tired of. 

Her brain tries to tug her in the direction of fear, flashing images of the sharp teeth of the Pting that she tries to overpower with the memory of how  _fairly_ unintimidating the creature actually was. She feels her stomach churn at the recollection of waking up somewhere foreign with her health compromised and body weakened. The risk of death by explosion crosses her thought process and she can almost physically feel the pain that she imagines would follow and  -     _stop._ She shakes her head as if to clear the thoughts away and manages to suppress them. The Doctor had warned them it wasn't safe, and she still feels no regret for her decision to travel. It's practice, she reminds herself. Just practice. 

Yaz doesn't realize she's fallen asleep until there are voices calling her back to consciousness. Her eyes fly open to reveal Ryan and Graham on either side shaking her shoulders and the Doctor in very close proximity, one hand on Yaz's knee, eyes full of concern and wide with questioning. 

"What?" Her forehead wrinkles with confusion and she heaves herself up straight from her slumped position. "Did you say something?" 

The Doctor pauses, scanning Yaz's eyes so intently that she almost feels the need to look away. "I asked if you're alright." She drops her hand from Yaz's knee and takes a step backwards, giving her some breathing room. "You dozed off and your face didn't look very happy. Kept frowning and scrunching. Do you usually frown and scrunch so much when you're sleeping?"

Yaz uses the excuse of rubbing sleep from her eyes to temporarily shield her face from view. The tired haze slows down her processing, but she comes to a quick decision that a discussion about her issue with vividly horrid dreams isn't what she's in the mood for right now. "Yeah, I'm good. Completely knackered, though." 

"All of you need to get some rest." The Doctor says, eyes still fixated on Yaz and catching her discomfort pretty quick, she looks away. "Sleep the day off. It's been a busy one. Thank you all, by the way. For your help. Couldn't have done it without you,  _well-_ " she tilts her head. "Probably could have, I'm good like that. But still, good work team. You've earned a good night's sleep." 

Yaz is the first to make a move, palms braced on her knees to push herself out of the chair and once she's standing she points to the right. "Is my bedroom still that way?" 

The Doctor shrugs genuinely. "No telling. I asked the TARDIS to stop moving everything around but I think it's still cross with me for taking so long to come home." She looks at the ceiling. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you that  _I did my best!_ "

Everyone laughs - a bit absently with their own determination to sleep off the events of Tsuranga. "Goodnight, you guys." Yaz smiles kindly and sets off in search of her room, surprised and thankful to find it exactly where expected. For once. 

 

* * *

 

Every time she closes her eyes the flashes of terror return. Yaz does her best to keep from getting annoyed with her apparent inability to see rationality. A couple hours of breathing exercises later, sleep finally comes. 

It's merciless. 

Fearful events from the past, present, and potential catastrophe her imagination finds in the future are the plague that haunts her dreams. Yaz's night is fitful and emotionally taxing and even in her unconscious state, she grows increasingly frustrated at her inability to find the off switch. 

There's someone screaming, and when she's pulled from slumber by hands gripping her forearms she realizes the sound is coming from herself. 

When her eyes open and the Doctor's face swims into view, the kind eyes and disheveled blonde hair isn't what she initially sees. Any potential sense of security is stolen by the images still flashing vividly behind her eyes and she recoils, yanking her arms free and pressing her back against the bed's headboard with heavy breaths that move her entire body. 

"Yaz - Yaz! Breathe, it's only me." 

It takes her a minute to realize she's not in danger. She can't even remember what she was dreaming about, but judging by the cold sweat soaking through her nightshirt, pinning her hair to her head, and her heart that refuses to stop pounding - it must have been a bad one. She blinks, grips her knees, and tries to focus her eyes on the Doctor. "How did you-" 

"Could've heard you screaming from another galaxy, so it was pretty loud and clear from the console room." The Doctor smiles nervously as if she's not sure it's an appropriate expression. "Bad dream?" 

Yaz almost emits a  _you have no idea_ scoff, but her throat still constricts with the remnants of terror. Starting to experience the beginnings of embarrassment, she decides not to answer.

The Doctor's expression takes on something that's new for the both of them, losing every aspect of usual playfulness and falling into something serious and eager. "From the looks of it you have a lot of bad dreams. How long has that been going on?" 

Yaz furrows her brow in confusion and clears the croak from her voice. "What do you mean?" 

"This isn't the first time, is it? At least since you came on board." She goes on. "I've noticed a few times, figured I'd leave you be, though. Didn't want to overstep, but tonight sounded particularly-" she winces. "Bad?" 

Yaz exhales every last bit of oxygen out of her lungs before drawing in any more. She considers denying, changing the subject because she's not sure if she wants to talk about it, but going by the Doctor's anxiety radiating almost tangibly she decides that would be a fairly cruel thing to do. "I've got a pretty vivid imagination." She provides. "Sometimes that's not a good thing." 

The Doctor nods and remains quiet, intent on listening instead of contributing. 

Yaz shrugs, feeling a bit put on the spot and unsure of what she's okay with sharing. "It's been like that ever since I was a kid. It's not the end of the world." When she still doesn't receive anything from the other end of the conversation, she adds, "'bit annoying, though." 

The Doctor chews the inside of her bottom lip and drops her head to meet Yaz's eyes more intently. "What do you dream about?" 

The humiliation hits in full swing now and Yaz feels like a child. "Anything from an unsettling film scene I saw when I was eight to ...  you know." She gestures vaguely, still hesitant to confess. "Space is-" she trails off again. 

"-Scary." The Doctor finishes, and the deep understanding in her voice just barely keeps Yaz from sinking into the bed with a shameful flush to her cheeks. "It is. It's dangerous and unpredictable. The life I live isn't one without consequence and Yaz, if it's too much for you-"

"No." She shakes her head, fully regretting letting her walls down. "It isn't-"

"-if it's  _too much for you,_ " the Doctor continues, "there's absolutely no shame in that. I don't want you to be mentally scarred by the things you see, you deserve to be at peace." 

Yaz shakes her head all throughout the Doctor's speech and is quick to clarify as soon as she's finished. "It really isn't, though. It isn't space or creepy aliens doing this, it's just..." She deflates, starting to feel on the brink of defeat. "Me. I've never been able to stop it. For whatever reason I'm just -  _haunted_ by certain things, but it's not the things' fault, you know?" She presses her lips into a thin line. "It's just me." 

The Doctor sighs and her tongue peaks through her lips as she struggles for the right words. "I'm sorry, Yaz." 

"Don't be. Seriously, don't be." She insists, sitting up straighter and crossing her legs beneath her. "Seeing everything I see is  _incredible._ Everything you've showed us - I'm eternally grateful for it." 

She still seems unsatisfied, visibly running through potential solutions. "I've got something that could help you sleep through the night, at least."

Yaz can't help but smile at her longing to assist. "I appreciate it, but I'll be alright."

"Yaz, please." Her words are tinged with desperation. "You can't spend every night in fear."

"You're right, I can't, and I won't." She states plainly. "I won't be in this boat for the rest of my life. I'm gonna keep pushing, keep looking the frightening things right in the eye until the day I can do so without consequence." She hopes she's conveying her determination as strongly as she feels it. "I don't want to put a band-aid over it. I want to face it and work past it. The nightmares remind me that that's what I have to do. All the scary things- they're just practice."

The Doctor relaxes a bit, nodding in semi-acceptance. "The only way to move past a fear is to face it."

"Exactly." Yaz smiles a bit and wonders if she's reading the Doctor's expression correctly. If she didn't know any better she'd say she looks impressed. 

"Yasmin Khan, I've got a lot to learn from you, I think." She speaks so genuinely and fondly that Yaz almost asks her to repeat herself so that she can revel in the rare moment.

"Yeah?" She laughs tiredly and starts to slide back down against her pillows. "Well class is out of session, currently. I'm gonna try to get some sleep." 

"Yes, yes of course." The Doctor says quickly and rises from the bed to leave her friend on her own, but she pauses with a hand on the doorway, considering, and turns back. "Do you want to be alone?" 

Still in the process of settling the discarded duvet around her shoulders and worming her way into a comfortable position, Yaz looks up. "Not necessarily, why?" 

The Doctor looks around the room until her eyes settle on the rocking chair Yaz had swiped from her bedroom back home. She grips the top to drag it a little closer to the bed and plops herself down. "I'll keep you company." 

Yaz's heavy eyes start to drift shut but she keeps them trained on the Doctor in the meantime. "I won't exactly be a good conversationalist when I'm asleep."

"Still." She settles back and grabs a book off the nightstand that she doesn't bother reading the title of, opening it to a random page and shifting to get more comfortable. "Don't mind me, get some rest."

As Yaz's eyes slide closed she finds herself soothed by the unfamiliar sense of being guarded. The presence of someone she trusts brings a security she didn't expect, but she embraces it with a sigh of relief and a more stable, more peaceful frame of mind. It doesn't take long for her to drift off, and for the first time in a long time she sleeps soundly through the night. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	12. Lesson Learned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oversizedboots: towards the end of arachnids in the uk, when robinson shot mama spider, i thought 13 was going to get in between the gun and the spider. obviously she didn't, but you could potentially write something about if she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we love a self destructive salty time lord

"No.  _Absolutely not._ "

"My hotel, my rules." 

It's in that moment the Doctor is able to fully come to terms with what type of man Jack Robertson is. In a different scenario, she might feel sorry for him - to live with such ignorance, with such a twisted perception of reality and the rights and wrongs, do's and don'ts that come with life to the point where it leads one to rush in  _literally_ guns ablaze - what a sad, pathetic life. She almost taunts him with the question of whether or not Mummy paid enough attention as a child, but when Robertson raises his pistol and aims at the  _real_ victim in the room, her hatred runs too deep for her to see any other option than to teach him a lesson. 

She hates guns. 

When the Doctor witnesses his hand tense around the handgun she's quick to act, less quick to think her decision through front to back. When the shot is fired and results in a  _really_ unfortunate jolt of agony in her left side she collapses back, managing to prop herself up on her right arm. The horrified shouts of her friends sound louder in her ears than the spider lethargically scrambling away from danger and she experiences a brief pang of guilt, a shadow of regret, but when her eyes settle over the look of mortification on Robertson's face she decides she's satisfied with her decision. 

"Still think guns are the best way forward?!" Through gritted teeth and raspy words she musters up a hard, no-nonsense glare that she's pleased to find the ignoramus shrink away from. 

Robertson, completely stunned, wordlessly opens his mouth. For a disappointing moment the Doctor expects him to only continue his self justification, to defend himself in a hopeless attempt to repel every last ounce of blame, but with one last expression of horror the man drops the gun at his feet and is quick to flee the scene. It's probably his best chance at self preservation given the firey anger projected in his direction by Graham, Yaz, and Ryan that the Doctor is pleased to find.

With her mission accomplished and in-the-moment purpose served, the Doctor relieves the arm shakily holding her upright by flopping backwards into the floor with a thud. As she tests her skin with a hand that comes back bloody she sees an angered Graham all but chase the man out of sight, Ryan kicking the gun under a chair with an _out of sight out of mind_ huff, while Yaz is suddenly at her side asking questions that the Doctor is only just now aware of.

"What were you thinking?" Ryan howls from several paces away, arms wide and expressing his confused irritation.

Yaz presses her hand against the wound in the Doctor's side and has a hard time stopping herself from lightening up when her friend gasps in pain. "Doctor, the spider was dying anyways. I know you make a point to respect all life but isn't this a bit excessive? And  _unnecessary_?" 

With a groan the Doctor manages to arch up enough to confirm that the bullet successfully went in and out, thankful that she doesn't have to add to the stress of the situation by asking one of them to dig the cursed thing out of her insides. A silent pause allows her a thorough enough self assessment to learn that the bullet didn't pierce any vital organs, and besides the blood loss that makes her head spin and her body feel cold - she'll be alright. 

"Yeah, well-" All the breath is forced out of her lungs when Yaz's desperate hand presses down harder. A few shaky inhales and slow blinks later, she grins with an unrestrained sense of victory. "Think he'll ever touch a gun again?" 

Ryan scoffs and throws his arms in the air with a somewhat disappointed shake of his head, and if her energy supply weren't running so thin she'd call him out on it. 

"Call 999." Yaz orders over her shoulder, shocked when the Doctor's cool hand clasps with surprising intensity over her wrist. 

" _No._ " The word trails off with a groan and she doesn't speak again until she's caught her breath. "Two hearts. Earth hospitals and myself don't get on." 

"What are we supposed to do then?" Ryan challenges. 

The Doctor feels like she's sinking even deeper into the floor that rocks beneath her back as if she's floating on waves. She closes her eyes to find the dizziness increased and opens them back up to focus on Yaz instead. "I heal pretty quick." She slurs and half smiles something tinged with regret. "Just need to not bleed out before I have the chance." She forces herself to fixate on Yaz's eyes and tries to not feel  _too_ guilty at the despair she sees overpowering any other potential emotion. Ryan's on his phone now, presumably checking up on Graham or keeping him updated, and she doesn't miss the way his hands shake around the device. 

She definitely feels guilty. No point trying to ignore that now that it's so obvious. She wants to explain herself - express the fact that if she has the chance to positively manipulate someone's soul, she's going to. She even hopes that one day they learn a similar lesson and given the chance, would take similar action to serve the purpose - not on this level, though. She can withstand much more than them. Humans. So breakable. So fleeting...

"Oh, no you don't. Keep your eyes open." Yaz takes this opportunity to press her hand down even harder, her free one joining the first to cover more ground. The increased pressure forces a bit of adrenaline into the Doctor's system and she laughs with chilling calmness. 

" _Ow_." Her hand rises to cover Yaz's though she doesn't try to cease her actions. "Eyes open. Check." 

Yaz dares to release one hand so she can press her stained fingertips against the Doctor's wrist. "Speaking of two hearts, yours aren't happy." 

The Doctor feels it too - the blood pulsing through her body slowing it's rhythm in attempt to signal severity. She knows what she has to do, but feels  _really_ bad about it. If she had the time she'd explain herself in full, give a full lecture completed with charts and diagrams on Time Lord biology and their handy dandy techniques for recovery, but her consciousness is slipping away too rapidly for more than a quick reassurance. 

"Really,  _really_ sorry about this." Her voice is a raspy whisper now no matter how much she tries to strengthen it. The world around her is visually muted, drastically toned down, and she knows she doesn't have long to get the words out. "But I promise in advance that I'm not dead, okay? Don't bury me or burn me, just stick me somewhere comfy..." She's the most qualified to take care of herself and she longs for the strength to rise to her own two feet. She opens her mouth to bid them a lighthearted goodnight, but with one last strain she slackens completely. 

"Doctor? Doctor!" Yaz taps the Doctor's face which lulls to one side at her touch. She's joined by Ryan who drops to his knees, visually examining the Doctor as closely as he dares.

"Is she breathing?" He questions, watching her chest and horrified to find it still at first glance. 

Yaz goes wide eyed and presses shaking fingers to the Doctor's neck. Her stomach drops. "Ryan, her hearts aren't beating." 

"What?! But she just said-"

"-I know!" Yaz holds her fingers in place, not completely trusting the physical response. With one last act of desperation she drops her head to press her ear to the Doctor's chest, eyes closed, concentrating, trying to find a reason not to cry. The silence is deafening and she clutches the sleeve of the Doctor's coat in frustration, but her hearing finally manages to fixate on the  _faintest_ double beat. She can't help but laugh. "She's alive." 

Ryan sinks back to sit on his heels and runs a hand down the length of his face, the roller coaster of anxiety draining his energy quick. "You're sure?" 

"Yeah." She lifts her head and goes back to watching the Doctor's blanched face and concentrating on ceasing the pool of blood from growing anymore. "I'm sure, but she still hasn't stopped bleeding." 

"What should we do?" Ryan clutches his phone tight between both hands. 

"As we're told, I guess?" Yaz regains control of her breathing and allows her mind to clear a path to a solution. "Think you can carry her?" 

Ryan nods and shifts into a crouching position, but Yaz stops him. 

"Hold on. Help me get her coat off." 

Together they very carefully roll the Doctor onto one side, then the other, sliding her arms out of both sleeves and worming the coat off her body. Yaz rolls it up longways and slips it beneath the Doctor's back, using the sleeves to tie it over her torso and provide static pressure against the wound. "Alright, go for it." 

Ryan discards his phone into Yaz's hand and slides his arms beneath the Doctor's body, heaving her up as he stands with a huff. "She's heavier than she looks." 

Yaz follows him out the door by the sound of his footsteps alone and uses his phone inform Graham that they're heading to his place. She pockets the device and dares one more glance over her shoulder, face drooping at the sight of the  _monstrous_ arachnid that now sits curled up in a corner and shows no sign of life. She's hit once again with frustration, being reminded that the Doctor's sacrifice was truly - to her knowledge - for nothing, and wishes she had the chance to interrogate her about her irrational decision. 

Yaz drives them to Ryan and Graham's flat and nearly runs off the road on four separate occasions when her eyes choose terrible times to focus on the reflection in her rear view mirror of the Doctor's limp body stretched out across the back seat. 

When they arrive they accept the Doctor's weight equally this time, carrying her through the front door and safely depositing her on Ryan and Graham's sofa. The memory fills all of Ryan's senses of the first day they'd met her, confused and disoriented. She'd napped on the couch as his Nan watched over her with mother-like concern, and for a moment his thoughts drift back into the direction of grief. With an emphasized shake of his head, he manages to force it back long enough to focus on the task at hand. 

"Now what?" He and Yaz stand over the Doctor, watching her for any sign of life. Yaz once again stoops to put her ear to her chest, and nodding with the closest thing to satisfaction possible once she rises again. 

"I think we just wait." Hesitantly she unties the sleeves knotted over the Doctor's torso and lifts the hem of her shirt to analyze the blow. "Bleeding stopped - wow. She really does heal quick." The wound is almost completely scabbed over, to her relief. "How long do you reckon she'll be asleep?"

Ryan shrugs and hums an  _I don't know,_ and the two fall into silence once again. 

When she does wake, it's after hours of breath holding and pulse checking. At some point Graham had come home, walking through the door muttering useless things about the atrocity that is Jack Robertson, and how he'd  _never_ get Graham's vote if he ran for office, his rapid fire questioning quickly following at the sight of the unconscious alien on his couch. 

It's four in the morning and Graham has already gone to bed with the assurance that if need be, he can be woken up, while Ryan and Yaz look up from their card game at the dining room table as soon as they hear the Doctor's sharp inhale. 

Yaz is the first to put a hand on her shoulder when she starts to sit up, trying to ease her back down and surprised at the Doctor's strength as she resists. "Careful!"

"Yaz!" Just now noticing her since her eyes opened, the Doctor smiles widely and sits the rest of the way up with ease. She looks around and processes her surroundings, memories from her most recent conscious moments returning and her gaze eventually falls on the sofa beneath her body. She gives it a fond pat. "Love this sofa. Great choice." 

"You're alright, then?" Still holding six cards in one hand Ryan sits on the arm of the sofa. "That's impressive."

"It is, isn't it?" The Doctor unwraps her coat from around her middle and pokes her left side. "Yep, all good now. Thanks for getting me here in one piece. And for not dropping me - unless you did drop me." Her mouth hangs open. " _Did_ you drop me?" 

Yaz feels heavy with relief and just shakes her head with a breathy laugh. "How did you heal so quick? Wish I could do that." 

"Oh, that?" The Doctor stands slowly from the sofa to test her footing then starts stretching all the sleep from her limbs. "Cool Time Lord trick. I can go into a self induced healing coma if I'm too physically compromised to handle it another way. Slows down my pulse and breathing to the point where it's hard to spot, though. Sorry if that spooked you." 

Yaz almost goes off on a tangent of  _just_ how nerve wracking the entire scenario had been, but decides against it for no particular reason. "You're alright though? For sure?" 

"For sure." The Doctor picks up her coat from it's discarded spot and frowns at the crimson spread across. "Can I use your wash?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again your friendly neighborhood American wrote this while avoiding spoilers. Demons of the Punjab comes on in an hour so at least I was successful. Thanks for reading!


	13. Self Motivation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt from tapdancingdalek: In The Woman Who Fell To Earth, there's that part where Graham says that thing about how Ryan will "blame this on the dyspraxia too", basically implying that he thinks Ryan uses it as an excuse for his mistakes. You could write something about the fallout of that, or Ryan's response to it, or someone talking to Graham about how he messed up there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This also very slightly touches on a prompt from Killjoys4life: 'Ryan is having difficulties fulfilling the (excessive) amount of physical activities that comes with the territory of being part of Team TARDIS. He might feel like he's letting the team down.' although it's more fixated on the conflict between Ryan and Graham. 
> 
> I really challenged myself with this one because I'm still struggling with writing the two boys, but I made a lot of progress with this chapter I think. Thank y'all for giving me an excuse to practice

It makes him angry because his dad used to say the same thing.

Ryan would stumble into a rack at the market and knock down a dozen bags of sugar. He'd trip over his own feet and grow physically weary much quicker than his friends. He'd miss the ball every single time it was his turn to catch.   
  
His dad would reprimand him. His dad would tell him the other children at school would laugh. He'd groan and walk away from the conversation every time Ryan took too long to respond. His dad would shout at him when Ryan's uncontrollable wobbles inconvenienced the man's dignity.   
  
And _boy_ did that make it harder to fix things.   
  
Ryan's fully aware that while he's stuck with dyspraxia until further notice, there are things he can do. He can practice. He can work harder. He can force himself to that cliffside and ride his bike or go through the list of hand-eye coordination exercises his childhood physical therapists had promised would work. They do work. They helped in his childhood - he doesn't think he'll ever forget that first day he actually caught the ball and earned the first look of fatherly pride he could remember.   
  
But every time he hears a comment, off-handed or direct expressing the frustration that Ryan's dyspraxia has on _someone else_ , something in the back of his mind bucks up. Maybe it's just his pride, really, that makes it so much harder to put effort into something when it feels like you're doing it solely for someone else.   
  
Last week, it was something like, "I'll bet you'll blame this on the dyspraxia too."   
  
Yesterday, it was nothing but the way Graham stared at him with poorly hidden annoyance at the series of awkward pauses in between Ryan's responses.   
  
Today, it's when the Doctor tells him proudly to do the honors with an eager nod towards the lever on the console. Ryan can tell she considers it to be the highest privilege - her head cocked and grin broad, arms stretched across the controls, hands holding a couple knobs and buttons in place and twitching with the anticipation. He huffs out a breath and matches her smile the best he can, feeling like Graham's eyes are staring down the back of his head. He twists around, just to check - expecting to see the same disappointment that always rested on his father's face, but of course Graham isn't looking at him - he's holding on for dear life to the edge of the console, bracing for lift off.   
  
Ryan reaches for the lever and his hand misses.   
  
It's innocent. It's unnoticeable besides the long breath that Ryan takes to compose the embarrassment before reaching again, successful this time, single-handedly sending the four spiraling off to who knows where.   
  
The Doctor is laughing out some nonsense he can't keep track of, Yaz is watching the central crystal rise and fall, and Graham - _now_ Graham's looking at him. Granted, Ryan started staring first, but along with the hardly justifiable frustration coiling deep in his stomach he reads disappointment in Graham's eyes. He wonders if his head is playing tricks because with an emphasized blink of his own eyes, the look is gone. 

Graham opens his mouth. Not his own head tricks, then. 

"Dunno how you can expect to be a mechanic if you can't even grab a lever." He's not trying to offend him, Ryan knows deep down. He's not trying to say anything out of line because Graham is, one and all, a good man who doesn't aim to cause unnecessary conflict. 

That doesn't stop Ryan from snapping. 

"Dunno how  _you_ can ever expect me to  _actually_ consider you my granddad when you're just like the man that left me alone." 

It's harsh, and he knows it. Graham knows how much Ryan loathes his father, and it's a punch straight to his gut. 

The chatter and background noises of the inhabitants of the console room fall dead silent. No one dares to breathe too loudly and Yaz and the Doctor's gazes are fixed on Graham, both of them wearing a nervous expression as they anticipate his response. 

Graham's face hardens and he presses his lips together in a firm line. "Seriously?"

The direction of everyone's focus is pointed at himself now, and Ryan would sink into the floor if he could. He shakes his head with a noise of shameful frustration and all but stomps down the corridor, leaving the thick atmosphere and tensed bodies behind. 

As soon as he's out of eye and earshot Graham sinks a little in his stance. He leans over the console, palms braced on the edge, staring down the metal beneath his fingers as if it would answer his silent questions. 

"I'll go talk to him." Yaz is grateful for a chance to leave some of the tension behind and she follows Ryan's example, disappearing down the hall in a matter of seconds. 

The Doctor and Graham are left in silence, her arms crossed and head tilted to examine his expression. It's not easy to read. 

Graham lifts his head to look at her, holding the eye contact for what feels like ages before he speaks out. "Did I mess up?" 

The Doctor walks over to lean back against the console at his side, shoving her hands in her pockets for lack of a better purpose. "What do you think?" It's a genuine question.

He sighs heavily with exasperation there's no point in trying to hide. "Surely he knows I'm not  _really_ angry with him, right?"

Another softly spoken genuine question from the Doctor that makes him consider. "Are you?" 

Graham raises his eyebrows and looks away. "I mean, not really. Sure, it gets frustrating. He doesn't exactly milk it but he uses his dyspraxia as an excuse way more than necessary. He's trying to become a bloody mechanic! Hand-eye coordination is a must if you don't want to stab yourself in the face with a wrench." 

The Doctor snickers but her semi-seriousness is quick to return. "Sounds like you might be a  _teensy_ bit angry."

"I'm not." Graham assures, but his gaze doesn't shift from where it rests on the controls beneath his hands. "Am I?" 

She shrugs, relaxing further against the console until she's closer to his eye level. "Dunno. But you've got to remember you're not a mind reader, Graham. Be thankful for that, by the way. The gossip you pick up-" She shudders the rabbit trail of thought away. "Ryan's got coordination problems. That's just a fact."

"He can do more, though." Graham argues. "Grace once told me he was makin' real progress and then one day, he just stopped bothering." 

"I think, and don't quote me on this," She goes on. "But I think Ryan's issue right now, maybe even then as back then as well - is the fact that he doesn't necessarily have the self motivation to try and improve. It's important to be encouraging. Helplessness isn't a fun feeling."

"I  _do_ encourage him. I point things out, I try to help him."

"You don't encourage, you push." The Doctor stares at him until his eyes meet hers, and the silence drawn from his slightly bruised ego allows her to elaborate. "You say things sometimes - not necessarily that are wrong, but that bother him. You can see it if you pay attention, really." She laughs at a specific memory. "Sometimes he gets all scrunched up and frustrated and looks like his eyes are gonna fall right out his head." 

Graham's expression darkens a bit. He says nothing. 

"Dunno about you," She draws her hands from her pockets to lazily cross her arms over her chest. "But in my experience, self improvement on that specific scale is a lot harder to manage when it feels like you're doing it for someone else's sake, not your own. He's not hurting anyone, Graham. He's just strugglin'." 

He lets out a slow, heavy sigh and straightens a bit. "I should talk to him."

The Doctor smiles politely. "Probably." 

Graham starts to walk in the direction that Ryan and Yaz disappeared minutes previous, but he pauses and turns back around. "I've known that boy for three years. You've known him a few months and you already seem to know way more about him than I do, and I've been trying.  _Hard._ " The sadness in his eyes shows just how deeply his care for his grandson runs. "Is that bad? That I haven't picked up on these things by now?"

The Doctor considers for a moment, but shakes her head in reassurance. "You just need to know where to look, but you have to learn how first. You're doing the right thing, being there for him, you know." She encourages. "He needs someone like that, I think. So for the most part, keep doing what you're doing. Keep learning. He'll come 'round."

Graham smiles his appreciation and gives her a respectful nod before pacing down the corridor. 

He hears Ryan and Yaz talking around the corner before he sees them and considers pausing for a guilty eavesdrop. Instead he clears his throat, announcing his arrival, and rounds the corner to face them.

Yaz gives Ryan a knowing look and bumps his shoulder before stepping away. "I'll leave you boys alone." 

Ryan meets Graham's eye and while the look on his face has lost some intensity, it's far from relaxed.

"Ryan, listen, I-"

"I shouldn't have said that. You're not like him. You're  _really_ not." Something crosses over his features as if he's remembering scenario after scenario that proves his own point. 

Graham's expression softens and his shoulders sag. "I earned it, I think. I've not exactly been helpful. I know you get frustrated - I shouldn't be adding to it."

Ryan's left speechless as if the words spilling from the man's mouth were the last thing he expected to hear. 

Graham takes a somewhat shaky breath and continues on. "I'll be better from now on. I won't push you. You know your limits, I don't. If I say something out of line you can have my written permission to smack me upside the head. I'm not your dad." He sticks his hands in his coat pockets. "I won't be your dad." 

The appreciation Ryan feels is something that he tries to hide, but a half a smile slips through the cracks anyways. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought!! Thanks for reading


	14. How Does that Nap Sound Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from 13 is my wife: perhaps you could write something with the Doctor getting sick? Maybe she's caught up in whatever she's doing and doesn't realise she's running a fever until Yaz notices that something's wrong and forces her to get some rest. Cue hugs and fluff and some light angst :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright so as much as i tried not to ship thasmin SIMPLY because reading into things to the point where it breaks your heart is exhausting (see: whouffaldi) it happened. i'm gonna keep this chapter as canon compliant as i can while still shamelessly throwing in thirteen/yaz fluff that i have EARNED AT THIS POINT!!!

Yaz gives the Doctor's boots a tentative kick. "Wakey wakey." 

Her eyes fly open and her hands raise defensively thanks to the lingering reflexes of Venucian akido, and her slightly startled and very bug-eyed expression loosens when she realizes she's not in any immediate danger. She lifts her head and glances at her boots with a look of disdain, recoils them with a delayed bend of her knees and lifts her eyes to Yaz's with obvious confusion. "Why am I on the floor?" 

Yaz shrugs and raises her eyebrows. "Was just about to ask you that same thing." 

The Doctor's head stays still while her eyes dart back and forth and her expression lightens in time with the memories returning. "Oh yeah! I was taking a nap." Her face scrunches again when she realizes her answer doesn't quite answer everything. 

"On the floor? Thought you said it was bad for your back."

"Yeah." She agrees and stays frozen in her contemplative stance until she gets bored of searching for answers. She shrugs in dismissal and grips the edge of the console to leverage herself to her feet. "It got a lot comfier." She adds as an afterthought. 

Yaz pulls a face. "You okay?" 

"Great!" She stretches her leg to toe the pedal beneath the console and wears the same triumphant face she always does when taking a bite from the custard cream in result. "Where have Ryan and Graham gone off to?" 

"Bed, I think. They looked wiped last I saw them." Yaz crosses her arms against the slight usual chill of the console room as she laughs. "I told Ryan he needs to work on his stamina a bit and I think I hurt his ego. You should've seen his face." 

She frowns when the Doctor doesn't take the opportunity to counteract the banter with the usual mindless ramble she'd respond with. Her eyes are cast downward onto nothing in particular, body stilled apart from the thoughtful nibbles she takes off her biscuit. 

"Doctor." 

"Hm?" Her wide eyes flick back up. "What did you say?" A couple crumbs fall out of her mouth as she speaks around them, fingers still holding the biscuit against her lips that she pulls away. She narrows her eyes at it in initial suspicion that turns to feelings of betrayal, and she flattens her hand and extends her arm. "Want the rest of this?" 

Yaz snorts, takes the half eaten custard cream from her hand and holds it closer to her eyes in examination. "Did the TARDIS get the recipe wrong? Never thought I'd see the day you turned one of these down." 

The Doctor shrugs. "It doesn't like me today."

"What, the TARDIS?"

"The biscuit." She presses her lips together in disgust. "Doesn't want to stay in my stomach. Shame, too. I'm hungry I think." 

"Like, a nauseous sort of not wanting to stay in your stomach?" 

"Yeah, that's the word!" The Doctor snaps her fingers and the inflection in her voice makes it sound like she was intending to raise the volume, but with a slight squint of one eye she keeps her tone mellow. 

"What are you nauseous for?" 

She shrugs again but doesn't find enough significance to analyze any longer. "Why aren't you in bed? You did just as much runnin' as those two."

Yaz tilts her head a bit and doesn't respond immediately. Everything about the Doctor seems toned down and the contrast is difficult not to notice. "Just not sleepy for some reason." 

She only nods and makes a  _fair enough_ face.

"Doctor," Yaz starts carefully. "You're not sick, are you?" 

"Dunno. Don't think so." She ponders the question very thoroughly. "Haven't been sick in a while. Don't remember what it feels like." 

"You feel weird at all? Other than the not wanting a biscuit?"

"A bit. It's kind of annoying."

Yaz smiles sympathetically. "You should go take an actual nap in an actual bed." 

"What?" The Doctor scoffs as if she's never heard a sentence so ridiculous. "Can't do that. Too much to do." 

"Like what?"

"Like-" She scans her surroundings in search for an excuse. "Like..." Her gaze falls on a discarded wrench at her feet and she gestures to it pointedly. "That! TARDIS is in shambles, really. Needs lots of ongoing maintenance, bless her." She crouches down to pluck the item up but once she starts to rise, her vision goes fuzzy and she re-assumes the previous position. "For example: the room is spinning! It's not supposed to do that. Is it supposed to do that?" The latter question is pointed at the ceiling. 

Yaz lowers herself to crouch in the Doctor's field of view, waiting patiently for her to give up on receiving a response from her ship and meet Yaz's eyes. "If you're sick and you don't get some sleep, you're just gonna get worse." 

" _Pfft_." The Doctor waves the suggestion away and moves to stand again but manages no more than gravity pulling her right back to the floor. She slowly crosses her legs and folds her hands together in her lap, eyes fixated past Yaz on nothing in particular. "Well that's a bit frustrating." 

Yaz sits as close as she dares and touches the inside of her wrist to the Doctor's forehead. "You're feverish. I think. You usually feel kinda cold."

The Doctor raises her own hand to replace Yaz's and furrows her brow. "Seems normal to me."

"Your hand is the same temperature as the rest of you." Yaz laughs out. "Come on. You need to lie down somewhere other than the floor."

"I'm alright, Yaz." Her third attempt at standing is slightly more productive than it's predecessors, but once she's up the console beneath her hands supports the majority of her weight. 

Not quite defeated but accepting she's not making any progress, Yaz stands as well and pats the Doctor's hand. "I'm gonna go make us some tea. At least sit down before you fall over, okay?" Figuring the Doctor won't follow direction she leaves it at that, watches her for only a moment longer before setting off in search of the kitchen that always thought it was funny to jump around. 

When she returns she's pretty impressed that the Doctor is still on her feet. 

Yaz places the cups on the console knowing full well that at any other time she'd get a lecture on how the platform is  _not_ a coaster. She sighs with compassion at the sight of the Doctor with her forearms braced against the console, whole body sagging, forehead pressed into the backs of her hands as if it's too heavy to hold upright anymore. Yaz tilts her own head to match the angle and without even thinking, lays her hand over the back of the Doctor's neck. Her skin is even warmer than it was minutes previous. 

The Doctor hums at the sensation but remains completely still. 

"Take your coat off." Yaz's voice is soft but leaves no room for argument. She acts first, tugging at the Doctor's sleeve until she lifts her arms enough to shrug the coat off her shoulders, immediately falling back into her uncomfortably hunched position. "How're you feelin'?"

"Bad." With the confession comes an aura of defeat, emphasized by the fact that she's not dodging the obvious anymore. Her walls are lowered for the first time Yaz has ever seen, and she only continues to surprise her. "Can you put your hand on my neck again? It felt nice."

Yaz's heart flutters at the sincerity of her request and she's quick to oblige, fingertips caressing her skin and weaving through her hair. "Want some tea?" She feels a negating shake of her head beneath her hand. "How does that nap sound now?" 

"Quite nice, actually." She admits, shifts a bit as if she's thinking about straightening but doesn't quite have the energy.

"C'mon." Yaz takes her hand and earns a reflexive squeeze of her fingers in response. She tugs a bit until the Doctor eases herself off the console and immediately grabs Yaz's shoulder to steady herself. "I'll help you. You can hold onto me if you need." 

And she does. The Doctor puts her arm around her friend's shoulders and Yaz grips that hand in one of hers, using the other one to hold onto the Doctor's waist. They walk very slowly, very wobbly, very carefully until minutes of struggle lead them to Yaz's bedroom. 

"This isn't my room." The Doctor acknowledges, head against Yaz's shoulder and eyes scanning the semi unfamiliar area. 

"It's got a bed and you room is a further walk. It'll be fine - unless you just specifically want to be in your own."

"No." Her response comes surprisingly quick. "This is fine." 

Yaz guides her across the room and all but drops her onto the mattress. It's all the Doctor can manage not to collapse straight into the pillows, right then and there. Wordlessly, Yaz kneels to slip the Doctor's boots off her feet then guides them onto the bed with the rest of her. "Do you want a change of clothes?"

The Doctor shakes her head carefully and eases herself backwards, eyes already shut against the bright lights that Yaz is quick to switch off. 

"You're not dying or anything, right? Just need to be sure." She's only half joking. 

"Not dying."

"Promise?"

"Promise." 

Yaz walks around to the other side of the bed and crawls to lay next to the Doctor. She moves slowly, a bit hesitant, but the lack of protest is satisfying enough for her to settle into the cushions. She turns on her side and pillows one hand beneath her head, feeling the exhaustion from the day finally start to sink it. 

They lay in silence for a few minutes and when she thinks the Doctor's at last fallen asleep, she reaches out to lay a palm over her forehead. 

The Doctor's breathing changes slightly in pace and she tilts her head into the contact, signalling she still hasn't fallen asleep.

"You're burning up now." Yaz comments, leaving her hand in place. "Is there anything else I should be doing to help you?"

"No." Her voice is barely even a whisper. "I'll be good by the time I wake up."

"You have to sleep before waking up is a thing, you know." 

The Doctor hums in acknowledgement and rolls onto her side. "Thanks for lookin' after me, Yaz." 

"Well you certainly weren't up for the job yourself." She smiles and shifts her hand so she can rake her fingers through the Doctor's hair. "I'll probably end up falling asleep soon, but you can wake me if you get any worse, alright?" She feels the Doctor's slight nod beneath her hand and closes her eyes. 

Within minutes they're soothed to sleep by nothing more than the presence of one another. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't meet my coffee quota today so this chapter wasn't thought out at all before i sat down to write it, but i started a new job today and i'm exhausted so i earned a bit of laziness. 
> 
> ALSO I always proof read my stuff a million times and always still end up missing something, so if you see that i left a word out of a sentence or explained something poorly please let me know so i can fix it!


	15. The First Second of Eternity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Never.eat.pears: Could you possibly do one where team TARDIS end up trapped somewhere but it really reminds 13 of the events of “heaven sent” and being trapped in the confession dial so she ends up having a panic attack so Yaz, Ryan and Graham help her out and 13 explains what happened.
> 
> (I got a prompt similar to this about a month ago as well but I can't find it now)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was fun!! apparently i'm weak for exploring the doctor's potential ptsd side. this was probably too much fun

There's a chill creeping across the Doctor's skin that she knows can be attributed to something besides the walls of 'ice' that incarcerate herself and her friends. Ryan and Yaz are being much more patient than herself, and somewhere amidst the fog in her mind she can hear them speaking calmly between themselves. Graham's voice had stopped drifting through the thin cracks in the walls once he'd grown tired of sitting idly by, and insisted he'd use his, quote,  _resources_ to come up with an exit strategy for his trapped confidants. The Doctor had made a comment about the factual _lack of_ and slid her sonic through the small opening to land in Graham's grasp. It was no help to her, so maybe it would be for him.

He's been gone roughly half an hour - a reasonable absence given the Doctor's fair enough certainty that all he'll find is more rocks and dirt. How did they even end up here again? ...oh yeah. The usual. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong choice of words, all topped off with a left turn when she should have turned right _._

"How's it so warm in here if the walls are made of ice?" Ryan's question is a bit delayed, she thinks. 

"Because it's not actual ice. The sonic could just melt it if that were the case." The Doctor's forearms are perched on her knees where she sits with her back against the obstacle. "It's called Venbantium, which is unfortunately in the same geological family as  _Az_ bantium."

"What's that?" Yaz questions. 

"A mineral four hundred times more dense than diamond. Venbantium is less crystaly and more icey looking, not quite as strong either, but still impenetrable given our lack of resources."

"That's encouragin'." Ryan huffs and sags his shoulder against the wall, experimentally running his fingertips through the crevices and drumming his knuckles against the surface. "What's Graham doing out there then? Doesn't sound like there's much he can do." 

"Tried to tell him that." The Doctor had stopped trying to worm optimism into her inflection after the first ten minutes. 

As if summoned by the mention of his name that there's no chance he actually heard, half of Graham's face can suddenly be seen through one of the openings as he calls out. "Hey, Doc? Couldn't find anything." 

She sighs, considers throwing out a half-hearted reprimand about how, as always, she knew what she was talking about when she gave him the facts, but she doesn't have the emotional energy. "Do you remember where the TARDIS is parked?"

"Think so." He squints one eye to gain better visibility. "Why?" 

The Doctor, lack of motivation apparent through her lazy movements, rises to her feet to press her face against the crack. "Slide me the sonic." 

Graham obliges and she take a step back to fiddle with the device. 

"What're you doing?" Yaz steps closer to peer over the Doctor's shoulder.

She doesn't respond until the end of the sonic starts to hold a steady glow and hum a frequency lower than usual. She slides it back through the crack, the whirring decreasing in volume the further away it gets. "Got it?"

Graham catches it when it falls out of the opening on his side. "What am I supposed to do with it?" 

"Take it back to the TARDIS and plug it into the console." She re-assumes her seated position and crosses her legs. "She'll home in on the coordinates I put in and materialize as close as she can." 

"Why didn't we do that before?" Ryan demands, though not with indignation.

"Because it won't do any good." She elaborates, audibly defeated, waiting until she can hear Graham's footsteps sprinting awkwardly out of earshot before she continues. "Just giving him somethin' to do. And if we do by some miracle get out of here, the TARDIS will be a few steps away." The Doctor hears Yaz slide her back down the wall of Venbantium to sit at the her side, but doesn't acknowledge the presence. 

For a good minute or two the silence falls heavily in the small space, any potential words of wisdom drowned out by the three lost inside their own heads. 

"This is all-" Yaz speaks up eventually, words hesitant and on the brink of a whisper. "A bit  _simple_ isn't it?" 

"How do you mean?" The Doctor folds her hands in her lap, rubbing her sweat-slicked palms against one another. 

"It's just-" Again, she pauses. "We're stuck. I know it's a tricky sort of stuck, but we've gotten out of  _much_ worse situations when I didn't think it was possible." Yaz hesitates and rephrases her statement. " _You_ have gotten us out of much worse situations."

The example takes a few seconds to translate in the Doctor's head and she grips her hands tighter in each other when she catches Yaz's meaning. "You mean I'm failing you." 

"No, that's not-" 

"It's okay. I failed me too a long time ago, ironically in a very similar scenario." She laughs darkly, eyes cast down and mind somewhere else entirely. 

Yaz looks to Ryan for help, but all he has to contribute is a confused shrug. 

"Azbantium." The Doctor's eyes flicker up to stare at the opposing wall a few paces away. Her breathing deepens. 

" _Ven_ bantium." Ryan corrects. "Right? Not quite as bad as the other, remember?" 

His voice is far off and the voice in her head is much closer. Why can't she find a way out? Every time a bulb lights up it's quick to flicker back to nonexistence. There's a solution, of course, because there always is. It's just out of reach, barely slipping through her fingers every time she starts to get a grasp. 

"How long have we been in here?" She asks suddenly. 

"Not even an hour." Yaz says quietly, worried about saying the wrong thing. 

Feels like years. Feels like centuries. Funny, too, because she remembers the four and a half billion years that felt like a single day. 

The Doctor hears the sound of her own heavy breathing before she feels it. She forces it to slow, only to be hit with a sense of oxygen deprivation and she increases the pace to compensate. 

"Doctor." Yaz dares, "We're gonna get out. If Graham's bringing the TARDIS then there's probably something in there that can help, yeah?"

It's a perfectly sensible suggestion. Surely, with an infinity to explore, there will be something capable of solving the problem she stupidly can't comprehend a solution for. "It's- it's not that." 

"What is it, then?" Ryan's sitting directly in her field of view now, intentionally probably, given it's cut off her immediate view of the wall behind him. 

When the Doctor closes her eyes she might as well be back in her personal, confession dial hell, because every plummeting feeling of hopelessness, every sinking separate feeling of dread is painted clear as can be. Her hearts pound and a chill runs down the back of her neck at the sensation of something behind her, and when a hand very gently touches the top of hers she feels the same agonizing scorch as the Veil's rough hand against her cheek. Her eyes shoot open with an accompanied gasp as she yanks her hand away from Yaz's attempted hold. 

"There's a mountain made of pure diamond. It takes an hour to climb it..." Her knees are drawn to her chest and she squeezes the life out of them, bowing into herself and muttering under her breath. "and an hour to go around it." 

Yaz and Ryan exchange a worried glance that doesn't last long, because the Doctor's muttering has increased to an angered shout that doesn't at all line up with her words. 

"Sharpens it's beak on the diamond mountain!" Everything is out of order and midst her hysterics she slams her heel into the ground. "Sharpens it's beak on the diamond mountain." She hates how familiar the words feel slipping from her mouth as if they were physically rehearsed a thousand times. She knows, reset or not, it was much more than a thousand. 

"Doctor, take it easy." Ryan dares to inch closer, on one knee and his hand nervously extending in her direction as if she may bite it off. "We don't know what you're trying to say."

"Take a breath." Yaz tries.

"And when the entire mountain is chiseled away," Her palms press down against the ground and her fingertips grind against it like she's trying to dig her way out. Her face lights up - something similar to when a brilliant idea makes a surprise appearance, but it's tainted with something wrong and a tiny bit frightening _._ "the first second of eternity-" Abruptly she stands, keeping her back pressed to the wall and not breaking the contact until she's fully risen. Even then, she pauses to press her forehead into the Venbantium and closes her eyes momentarily. "- _will have passed!_ " She yanks herself away, channels her momentum into her right fist and slams it loudly against the wall. 

Ryan and Yaz for the briefest of seconds can only stare, perplexed, mouths agape and hands raised in a wordless  _No, don't do that!_

Ruthlessly the Doctor pummels the wall like it's her worst enemy. In this moment, it absolutely is. 

She reaches back, hoping the distance will increase her strength and strikes again with a chilling mix between a scream and a cry. When she reels back again, the blood on her knuckles is the first thing to snap Yaz out of her shock, and she advances forward to grip the Doctor's wrist with all the strength she can muster. "Doctor, stop it!" 

Effortlessly she yanks her hand from imprisonment and throws another punch. Yaz desperately reaches for a grip on her arm and Ryan is right behind her, grabbing the Doctor's shoulder in attempt to pull her out of reach. She breaks free, advancing again, and Ryan and Yaz both loop their arms around her to haul her backwards with the sound of booted heals dragging against the stone floor. 

"It takes an hour to climb it!" Her tone suggests that they're meant to know what she's talking about, like it's reason enough for them to allow her to break her hand. She flails in their grip, straining forward. "It takes an hour to  _go around it!_ " 

"Doctor, chill out!" Ryan narrowly doges a swinging fist that he knows wasn't aimed at himself. "This isn't how we get out of here!" 

Yaz slips out of the way so that Ryan can restrain the Doctor from behind, holding her upper arms with all his strength that's still only barely enough. She darts into her field of view and after a couple ducks and close calls, manages to snag the flailing hands by the wrists. She pins them together, pulling them close enough to feel the tremble against her chest. "Look at me."

The Doctor's eyes are on the wall on the other side and she continue's to struggle against Ryan's hold, mumbling the same nonsense about diamonds and birds. 

"Doctor." She adopts as calm of a tone as she can manage. "Slow down. You're safe. Graham's gonna get us out of here." 

Her eyes, wide and crazed meet Yaz's for the first time. "The  _first second_ of eternity-" She's out of breath, unsteady on her feet, words stumbling out with hopelessness and utter terror. "Will have passed." 

"I don't know what that means." Yaz desperately tightens her grip in attempt to seal her attention. A drop of blood runs down the back of the Doctor's hand and over Yaz's fingers. "But you're not gonna solve anything like this, and-" She looks to Ryan, who's just as much at a loss as herself. "And you're scaring us.  _Please._ Take a deep breath." 

The Doctor's panting starts to slow, but every inhale and exhale is at it's deepest capacity. "The shepherd's boy..." She looks down at her hands as if she'd never noticed she had them before. She bows her head, concentrating on the sound and feel of Yaz's heart against her fingers. 

Yaz rubs the base of her palm with her thumb and gives her hands a quick encouraging shake, silently allowing her to draw herself back to reality. 

"Personally," She sags her shoulders as the adrenaline continues to subside. She speaks with some clarity, almost realization, as if her words are the answer she was looking for. "I think that's a hell of a bird."

"Yeah, me too." Yaz laughs, still heavily confused but the relief weighs more. "Me too." 

Once she slackens and they fear she might collapse, Ryan tenderly lowers her to the ground and Yaz joins them with her hands still binding the Doctor's. 

The Doctor shifts her gaze back to the wall but her frenzy doesn't return. She sits in silence, concentrating on catching her breath while Yaz releases one hand to analyze the other. 

Gently holding the Doctor's wrist, she turns her hand to provide different angles and sighs in disapproval. "You definitely broke your hand. Didn't anyone ever teach you to punch with your first two knuckles, not the others?" 

The Doctor carelessly looks down at her hand, but the visual isn't what informs her of the bones behind her ring and pinky finger having snapped. 

"These bones are a lot more delicate than the others," Yaz explains, providing the Doctor a sound to focus on as she tenderly lifts her friend's fingers. The hiss of pain she earns confirms her suspicion. "because they don't have as much support. Hit something hard enough the wrong way and those bones go shooting towards your wrist, though I take it you already know that." 

The Doctor winces as Yaz prods at her skin some more before the hand is placed back in her lap. Her sensibility has more or less returned, but she can't bring herself to speak. Her cheeks burn with shame for the actions that she doesn't know how to justify. 

"Learned that in karate class when I was eight. Good stuff." Yaz smiles encouragingly and squeezes her arm.

Ryan moves to sit more comfortably but keeps one hand on her back. "Feeling better?" 

The Doctor stares at the ground, relishing in self provided silence before she can't help but say something. "I am... really,  _really, really_ sorry." 

"It's okay." Yaz assures, and Ryan nods his agreement. 

"Don't do that again though." He earns a sharp glance from Yaz when the Doctor's embarrassment grows to a point of being practically tangible. 

The Doctor exhales a shadow of an attempted laugh and pushes her hair out of her eyes. She looks back at the wall and scrunches her face up thoughtfully. "It worked last time." 

"What was all that about a mountain? And a shepherd?" Ryan takes advantage of her apparent lucidity, unable to contain the curiosity any longer. 

A dark look passes over the Doctor's face and Ryan almost regrets asking so soon, but she's quick to physically shake it away and look back down. 

"My people wanted information from me a while back. I didn't give it to them because well, I didn't have it. Made a good trump card, though, them thinking that I did." Her head droops sideways tiredly, and she takes a long pause to consider if she even wants to continue. Short and sweet. Answer the questions but as always, keep the dark stuff to herself. It's easier that way. "Their way of getting that info was sticking me in a personalized torture chamber. I was stuck in a loop for a very,  _very_ long time." She shakes her head, knowing she isn't making any sense. She clenches her right hand, relishing in the firey pain that shoots all the way up her arm. "Long story short, punched through a wall of Azbantium until I was back home. It was-"

"- _Horrible_." Yaz touches her hand and doesn't let go until the Doctor uncurls her fingers. She pieces the bits of what must be a traumatic story together enough to feel a scrap of her pain.. "Doctor, that's horrible." 

"Yeah, they sound like a blast, your people." Ryan furrows his brow in distaste. 

"Not exactly my best friends." She agrees and slowly looks around the room. "Being in here triggered something, I suppose. Blasted bantium family. I'll be having a few words." Her head drops again and she squeezes her eyes shut against the image of herself in such a state. "I really am  _so_ sorry you had to see... whatever _that_ was. I'm not always like that."

"We know." Yaz makes a point to smile her genuine friendliness. "Has that ever happened before?"

"Probably." The Doctor sniffs. "I don't dwell on it." 

"Maybe give us a heads up if you're gonna go all  _fists of fury_ on us next time?" Ryan chuckles but bumps her shoulder with his own to smooth over his words with affection. "But really. It's alright." 

She closes her eyes and smiles slightly, only opening them when she hears the materialization of her ship on the other side of the wall and Graham's excited voice closely following. 

"Alright, you lot! Stand back!" He calls through the crack, wielding something behind him that no one can make out through the small space. "From what I gathered this thing's gonna blast a hole in the side so you three can crawl out. The TARDIS told me how it works but I couldn't repeat it if my life depended on it. Ready?" 

Ryan's already risen to his feet and is quick to hustle to the furthest corner of the room. Yaz moves from a seated position to a crouch, and takes the Doctor's uninjured hand tightly in her own. 

"Told you." She smiles at her, giving her hand a helpful tug. 

The Doctor lets out a weighted breath and gratefully takes the hand to hoist herself up. "Yeah, you did."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me your thoughts/tell me if my 5 proof reads still weren't enough


	16. Everything's Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from AntimonyAvenger: could you do something to do with the Doctor saying we can’t be in a universe with no Yaz or something like that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've fallen for thirteen/yaz and i can't get up

The rope is looped for a fourth time around the Doctor's wrists and knotted with an unnecessarily tight cinch. She doesn't budge minus a hint of a wince, but Yaz nearly chokes on her own anguish.

They're helpless. Yaz, Ryan and Graham are held back by the crowd, captivated amidst the sea of antsy bodies fighting to get a better view and all shouting something along the lines of  _burn the witch._

Classic case of terrible place, terrible time, with a sickening twist that eats Yaz alive. She stares, mortified at the Doctor's hopeless struggles, and is unable to push the realization out of her focus that it was supposed to be  _her_ up there.

Yaz was the one who wielded the sonic under the wrong prying eyes. Yaz was the one who couldn't help but instigate when questioned. Yaz was the accused who was put to the test and only hardly escaped death by suffocation thanks to the Doctor's selfless act.

Her unconsciousness after being underwater for several minutes ended up being her saving grace. The Doctor's lack of when she pulled Yaz from the depths is about to be her downfall.

"All manner of practice," King James I addresses the crowd, arms wide and sweeping for physical emphasis. "use, or exercise of witchcraft..."

Yaz can't look away. She even goes through the effort of jumping as high as she can manage because she  _needs_ to see the Doctor's face. She needs to know what she's thinking. Is she scared? Is she amused? Surely she's just waiting for the right moment to make her move - pull a couple of sly tricks to buy her enough time to gather up the gang and take off into the hills. 

There's a rather impressively tall bloke blocking Yaz's field of view and refusing to budge under any circumstance, so she switches her momentum to duck down and dive in between the bodies, pushing and shoving and protecting her head from restless arms of strangers until she senses she's as close as she has the courage for. Yaz draws in a breath that's thick with the stench of poorly kempt individuals and rises to stand at her tallest capacity. She still has to strain her neck for a good view and when she reaches it, she nearly regrets her efforts. 

The Doctor's hands are bound above her head and her body is forced flush against splintering wood as she tries to struggle free. She's shouting over King James's nonsense, trying to scream some sense into his brain that even a true witch wouldn't manage to cast a spell strong enough for. 

"...enchantment, charm or sorcery is forbidden in this land. The witch before you today," King James steps aside to grant the crowd a sickening view of his prisoner. "Is guilty of these, and more. She has proven her immunity to the likes of drowning, confirming accusations, and on this day she will be abolished."

Yaz grabs the sides of her head in mortification, and despite the pain it brings to her chest she's unable to look anywhere else. The Doctor's face has lost almost all traces of fright and is replaced with something much more gut wrenching - she holds her head high and watches the back of the king's head with disdain and twisted pity as he speaks to the crowd. Yaz watches her take a slow, purposed breath, and when King James turns back around the Doctor meets his eyes without an ounce of fear. 

"You are unbelievably thick." She says to him with chilling calmness, holding the eye contact and satisfied when he's the first to break it off. One of the king's henchmen steps forward with his torch raised high. The whole crowd seems to hold their breath, and all sounds are drowned out by the sensation of heat Yaz can feel on her own skin. The thought of what her friend must be feeling might have brought tears to her eyes if the shock allowed. 

"Burn the witch!" King James shouts.

Yaz stops breathing. All she can do is watch, wait, hope,  _beg_.

The Doctor lifts her head higher and closes her eyes, and the last bit of oxygen Yaz holds in her lungs is forced out by the heartache. 

" _No!_ " She knows she's not supposed to be drawing attention to herself - the vulturing eyes of many soldiers have been trained on her, unconvinced, ever since she was rescued from the lake, but she can't help herself. She throws herself forward, trying to brace her way through the crowd but is forced back. "Doctor!" 

She doesn't budge as the flame grows closer, it's dramatically slow pace only adding to the trepidation in the atmosphere. Yaz is preparing to witness the worst thing she could possibly imagine when of course, as always, the last thing she would have expected comes into play. 

The Doctor's eyes fly open and she strengthens the legs awkwardly holding herself upright to shout, "Now!" 

Yaz can only watch in wide eyed confusion, surprise and breathless relief as Ryan suddenly hops up onto the edge of the platform, feigning heroism, drawing everyone's eyes and every soldier's defense while Graham takes the brief opportunity to reclaim the Doctor's sonic from where it hangs from the king's belt. In one fluid motion he's snatched it, points it at the Doctor's hands, and she breaks free with a whoop of triumph. Graham tosses her the device and she uses it to quench the increasingly nearing flame then spins on her heels, arm fulling extended, pointing it at King Jame's face with a threateningly tight grip. 

She lowers her head and drops her voice several notes to portray her seriousness. Yaz can't even hear the warnings she spits out to the king and doesn't bother straining to listen over the sound of the riled crowd. The Doctor's fine. She's okay.  _She's fine._ That's the only fact she can dwell on.

With her eyes still fixated on the king the Doctor says something inaudible to Ryan and Graham, who are quick to dart off the platform and run towards the safe shelter of the forest to their left. The Doctor steps closer with her sonic inches from King James's face and risks a quick glance into the crowd, scanning the faces until she finds the one she was looking for. 

It takes Yaz a moment to interpret the Doctor's silent message, head nodding to the side and signaling her to follow the boys with fierce eyes that assure,  _I've got this._

Yaz obeys, but instead of turning to run she walks backwards with arms extended behind her to feel for any unwanted obstacles. She can't look away, even now. It's not that she can't believe the Doctor is alright, but she doesn't trust her to  _stay_ alright. 

When she's out of the mass of close quartered bodies and safe from the action, back against a tree, Yaz can hear Ryan and Graham hollering for her to hurry up, join them, get a head start to the TARDIS so they can wait for the Doctor in safety. But she doesn't want to wait, doesn't want to spend another second wondering whether or not she's alright. She has to see for herself. 

Her feet are practically glued to the dirt beneath them until she sees a soldier advance on the Doctor, soon repelled by the action of her sonic setting the platform on fire and sending everyone scattering with frantic shouts. She dives off and uses the momentum as the perfect head start to take off running full force.

Yaz listens to her steps grow nearer and her watches her shape increase in definition as it comes into closer view. 

"Yaz, you're supposed to be running!" The Doctor doesn't stop, but slows just enough to snatch Yaz's hand and drag her along. 

As she sprints the warmth of the Doctor's hand in her own is a blessed relief, a vice grip of reassurance.  _Everything's fine._

They reach the TARDIS to find Ryan and Graham leaning against the outside, waiting for the Doctor to grant them entry, and when they see the women whip around a tree into view their heads shoot up and they exhale audibly. 

"That was a close one, Doc. We should never have come here."

"Yeah, no kidding." Ryan sags against the box, still breathless from their escape. 

"Nah," The Doctor shrugs and draws her key from her pocket to unlock the door. "I had it under control."

Yaz finds the emotional strength to speak for the first time. "You absolutely did not!" 

"Sure I did." She pushes the door open and steps aside to allow the others to step inside first. "Ryan and Graham definitely pulled their weight, though. Hope you don't feel excluded, Yaz. King James's men were watching you too closely, but that worked out perfectly for us. They never saw the boys coming." She flashes Ryan and Graham a grateful smile to accompany her words as they step inside the TARDIS, and she gestures with the hand not holding the door open for Yaz to do the same. 

She still feels partially frozen, exhausted by the hodgepodge range of terror to relief, and for a moment can only stare with her mouth hanging slightly open. 

"You alright there, Yaz?" The Doctor tilts her head and releases her grip on the door handle. 

Yaz exhales heavily and doesn't waste another moment in reaching out to grip the Doctor's wrist and yank her close enough for Yaz to, in every sense of the word, throw her arms around her neck. 

The Doctor emits a noise of surprise and isn't sure how her own body will respond to the first hug of this regeneration, but with the ease of centuries of rehearsal her own arms encircle Yaz's waist and she holds her tight, cheek pressed against her hair, pulling her friend a little closer when she realizes she doesn't mind the proximity in the least. 

Yaz drops her head to bury her face in the Doctor's shoulder and breathes in the blissful scent that brings her a sense of comfort that she knows no one else could ever accomplish. A pleasant chill runs down the back of her neck when she feels one of the Doctor's hands move up and down her back, understanding her distress and wordlessly trying to ease it into the background. Yaz closes her eyes, calmed immeasurably. "Never save my life again."

"We can't have a universe with no Yaz." She responds as if it justifies her actions, breath warm against the side of Yaz's head. "I'm not promising anything." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the good thing about when i was a delivery driver is that i had hours of driving alone to come up with elaborate fic ideas and details, but now that i'm bussing tables i don't have much thinking time. updates might not be as frequent as they have been because this new work schedule is exhausting, and i don't like releasing chapters that i'm not 100% happy with, but the updates will come sooner or later! 
> 
> let me know what you thought/let me know what you'd like to see me write. thanks for reading!


	17. Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous Tumblr Prompt: Maybe something where the Doctor get hypothermia but she tries to insist she’s fine?
> 
> Prompt from PEZwolf: Can you make o e where king James was not so nice with interrogating the doctor? Could it be more painful for the doctor?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in other words, witchfinders au where the doctor gets absolutely fucked up 
> 
> sorry i haven't really been responding to comments lately but thank you all SO much for the feedback!! i honestly spend the first couple of days after i post a new chapter constantly refreshing my email in desperation to know what y'all thought 
> 
> warning for blood

The Doctor positions herself in time with the group's steps so that the worst of the piercing wind is blocked by their bodies. It wisps against her skin and carries away the thin layer of barely existent warmth. Frustrated, her hands go to her shoulders and she squeezes desperately, longing the chill that's making her fingers numb and her body shake to ease into something more tolerable. She pulls at the edges of her coat to draw it across her chest and it provides only minuscule relief. 

Becka Savage and her associates are a few steps ahead, treading up the hill and leading the way. Yaz says something about wanting to go back and find Willa, and the Doctor looks up from the ground and nods in firm agreement. 

"We'll deal with her ladyship if you go do some family liaison. We'll meet you in a bit." She scrunches her nose in discomfort and looks left and right between Ryan and Graham, aiming her words at no one in particular. "Hopefully by then I'll be a bit dry." 

"See if she's got a spare set of clothes for you." Yaz adds, already backing up in the opposite direction, her voice losing volume beneath the wind. "It's bloody cold out here and you're shakin' like a leaf. Don't get hypothermia. Doubt you'll be much use to us if you did." 

The Doctor scoffs and cinches her coat tighter against her body, dumbfounded.

Yaz blinks in disbelief and shifts her gaze. "Ryan, Graham, don't let her get hypothermia." 

"Ten-four." Ryan assures, and Graham removes an arm from their crossed position to salute as Yaz turns to trot back down the hill. 

"You hear that, Doc?" Graham bumps her shoulder and resumes their walk, seeing Mistress Savage and her men pretty far ahead. "Better get warm." 

When they reach her home, the fire in Becka's sitting room at least scratches the surface of the Doctor's chill. She's regained sensation in her fingers and toes more or less, but her jaw is clenched tight and her muscles try to stave off the insistent shivering by tensing and leaving her stiff. Graham takes the liberty of asking their hostess if she has anything warm to wear that she can go without, but the Doctor silences the immediate following offer with the insistence that she's already feeling much  _"toastier"_ and is more concerned with hearing Becka's further elaboration of the trials.  

Once they're back in the crisp outdoor air, she  _really_ regrets not accepting the offer. Even if it would cramp her style. 

By the time there are mud-filled undead women stumbling in her direction and King James can be heard running closer between the trees towards the action from her left, her mind is too foggy and judgement too clouded to realize this is awful timing to use her sonic. 

When he orders for his men to arrest the witch, she's too tired, too dizzy, too unsteady to stop them from dragging her away. 

* * *

 

" _-_ I am not a witch. But if you want to defeat evil you have to let me go now. _Please_ ,  _sire."_

The ropes twist painfully into her wrists. The Doctor sways, admittedly partially grateful for the ability to use her upper body strength to hold herself up as opposed to her lower. Her legs shake dangerously and every time her knees buckle, she hoists herself back up with a poorly concealed grunt and a tight grip on her bounds. 

"I do not know what you are." King James's sudden shift from possible understanding to sheer evil determination catches her off guard. He steps closer and the Doctor resists the urge to duck away from his eyes. "And there is only one way to be certain." 

Her hearts sink and a good chunk of whatever energy she still has is leached away by the realization that she hasn't gotten through to him as well as she'd hoped. The Doctor wraps her fingers around the ropes and tugs desperately, breathlessly, as hard as she possibly can. To her  _very_ brief relief, James doesn't call for the guards, nor does he free her from the post. 

"Well, I say only one way." His entire demeanor has taken on a stance of ruthlessness. Heartless eyes, a soul in that moment incapable of humanity. He looks somewhere behind her and reaches into his coat pocket,  _all about the dramatics,_ and draws a sharp object out of it's storage space. "Do you know what this is?" 

The Doctor clenches her jaw and only gives it the briefest of glances before she's back to steadily and hopefully intimidatingly holding his gaze. She curses her head for the way it swims in and out of focus, the way her arms shake above her head with what she knows is the cold, and silently begs it isn't interpreted as fear. She isn't afraid, even with what she's sure is simply called a  _pricker_ held inches away from her face. Drawing in a failed steadying breath, she frowns as deep as possible. "I am not a witch." 

The king laughs and twirls the object in between his hands menacingly. "They say if the mark of a witch is pricked, she will not bleed. Another use when no mark is visible-" Without warning or any sign of such sudden motives, he stabs the Doctor in the shoulder. Not as deep as possible, and she doesn't even sound any hint that she's in pain. One eye squints and she grinds her teeth, never looking away from him. "Is a bit of trial and error." 

She looks down to see the blood seeping through her coat, pooling down her shoulder and she shudders at the sensation of it running down her side. She tugs again at the ropes and meets the king's eyes, portraying her shame as much as possible. "You're better than this, James." 

He takes an angry step closer and points it at her eye, his face mere inches from her own. "There is still time for confession. You, and I mean this in it's fullest offence, don't seem to be in your  _strongest_ state." He drops his head and touches the tip of the pricker to her chest. "Improper attire for the weather conditions - madness, and you've lost possession of your precious wand so I don't see many warming spells in your near future. You've fallen victim to winter as it is, do you wish to fall victim to blood loss as well?" 

The Doctor bites the inside of her lip and lifts her chin, indignant, determined to prove him wrong. In the back of her mind she can already hear Yaz chastising her with an irritated  _I told you so_ that would probably be followed by hot tea and a warming fire in the library. Suppressing the shudder deep in her chest, the thought sounds like paradise. 

James repositions his aim and stabs her left bicep, frustration apparent by the roughness and ill coordination of his actions. He takes a half step back and clasps his hands in front of his body, nodding at the new satisfying observation. "You seem to be not entirely immune to pain, but very tolerable. I wonder why that is?" He raises an eyebrow, prompting the Doctor to fill in the gaps, but she merely breathes away the pain and with her gaze never shifting, continues to struggle not to slacken beneath her bounds. 

Still unhappy and irritation ever growing, the king analyzes his surroundings with vulture eyes and a sick heart until his focuses falls on a bucket of water a few paces away. "So kind of them to leave me with hydration. Interrogation is ever so exhausting." 

He paces away and with his back turned, the Doctor's face slackens and twists in extreme discomfort and her legs once again threaten to cease purpose beneath her body. Her breaths are an effort, her pulse is slowing, her whole body shaking. She's well aware she's hypothermic but given she's helpless to it's effects and the list of more pressing issues on her hands - or rather wrapped around them - she ignores the shivers to the best of her ability. 

The king returns and places the bucket in front of her feet, kneeling with a cup in hand to scoop up the water and take a merciful sip once he's risen again. He holds it in front of the Doctor's mouth with a nod of offering, but she only stares at it with disdain. Unable to dignify him with acceptance. James's mildly compassionate shift in attitude falls flat and he splashes the entire contents of his cup onto her face. 

It's all she can do not to gasp. Her soaked hair sticks mercilessly to her neck, the water runs down her body and she can no longer hide the violent shakes. 

King James huffs his frustration and tosses the pricker up in the air, watching it land back in his right hand and not wasting an instant before stabbing the Doctor in the side. 

She feels the steel pierce her skin between her ribs on her right, she doubles over as much as the restraints allow - and there it is. She doesn't quite scream, doesn't quite gasp, but makes a noise of agony somewhere in between, and with her crossed eyes clamped shut and pants coming out shallow and strained, she kicks the dirt in anger at the sound of the king's loud, pointed chuckles. 

"Confess, witch!" His breath is hot on her ear where he bends, hands braced on his knees, in as close proximity as he dares. 

Summoning up every last  _hint_ of what could be considered energy, she lifts her head rapidly to smack the back of it into the king's nose. He reels backwards, astonished, shouting profanities she can no longer make out and when the Doctor opens her eyes, James is standing cradling his bleeding face. 

"Witch!" He lunges forward to kick the bucket of water, drenching her almost entirely. The Doctor's rapid inhales shake and her exhales are joined by audible groans of intense discomfort. "Come dawn, you will be tried, and there will be no longer denying yourself,  _Doctor_." He spits the last word with hate and disgust, and the Doctor just lulls her head sideways and closes her eyes against the sound of him and his guards vanishing between the trees. 

* * *

 

With the descending sun comes the drastic descent in temperature. The four hours and thirty-six minutes of immobility at least gave her wounds enough time to close and cease the blood flow, regrettably not before the loss left her dangerously dizzy and completely limp. The toes of her boots dig against the grass as she swings from the ropes, knees bent, chin to her chest, fighting to keep a grip on consciousness and failing for the eighth time. 

When she opens her eyes again the sun is still nowhere to be seen, and past the agonizing strain of her arms holding all her weight and the fog of her low body temperature, she's hit with an additional sensation of dread for Yaz, Ryan and Graham. She hasn't seen them since they set off to follow the mud women yesterday and she, as always, can't help but assume the worst. 

Helplessly the Doctor winds her numb fingers around the rope, groans heavily and tries to dig her heels into the ground. She wouldn't be entirely surprised if her arms completely detached from her shoulders soon, but all efforts to stand fall flat. 

She's not too cold anymore, at least. A sickening warmth seeps deep from her chest and provides a minuscule level of calmness. A shiver runs down her body head to toe and she's well aware that her temperature has long since reached a dangerously low point. Still, she relishes in the false relief, calls out the names of Ryan, Graham and Yaz, and the silence that she's met with lulls her back into unconsciousness. 

* * *

 

 "Doc, can you hear me? Ryan, see if you can get those knots untied." 

"She's freezing. I told you two not to let her get hypothermia." 

"We tried! She's impossible when it comes to stuff like that."

"No kidding." 

When the Doctor blinks her eyes open all that's in the field of view is her boots and the unforgiving ground beneath them. Hardly distinguishable voices fade in and out and she shifts, hands instinctively curling around her binds and feet shifting against the grass. She doesn't register anything beyond visual facts until there are two hands on the sides of her face, lifting her head and forcing her to look into three pairs of wide and blessedly  _friendly_ eyes. She cracks a smile, eyelids fluttering, relief sending her past weakness and nearly back into sleep. 

"She's awake." Yaz taps her cheek when her eyes threaten to close again. "Doctor, what the hell happened?" 

Her face twists with discomfort and when she tries to speak, her voice cracks. She bows her head and coughs some of the croak away before trying again. "King James." The two words leave her exhausted, but she uses the surrounding sights to distract herself from the longing of sleep. Hell, even regeneration would be a mercy right about now. 

"You're bleeding." Graham steps out of view to examine the wound on her shoulder, arm, then his eyes drop to her side and his face falls. "Blimey, you really made him angry." 

"I-" She takes a breath, trying and hardly succeeding to steady her mind enough to get the words out in the right order. "I heal quick. Those are fine." She feels the presence of fingers on her hand and carefully tilts her head back to see Ryan, brow knit in concentration, working to undo the knots that have only tightened from hours of her deadweight pulling against them. 

She can smell dawn approaching in the slightly warmer air and her eyes open wider at the anticipation of further abuse. "We've got to-" A gasp cuts her short once Ryan manages to slip the ropes off her wrists. Her knees hit the ground first, the impact rattling her head and sending her cross eyed, and her upper body barely escapes a similar fate thanks to Yaz's hands on her chest holding her semi-upright. "We've got to go. It's almost dawn," A pause to catch her breath. "He's coming back." 

"Weren't really planning on wasting any time." Ryan drops down and moves into position on his hands and knees to meet her eyes. "Are you gonna be okay?" 

She nods with as much reassuring confidence as possible. In her minds eye flashes images of the creatures filled with mud, Becka Savage who she still isn't entirely convinced is telling the truth, but the next shudder that runs right to her fingertips pushes the concerns away. She just wants to get warm. 

"TARDIS isn't too far, we saw it again while we were following those things." Graham wraps a hand around hers to start the process of getting the Doctor to her feet. "Bit of a dead end there by the way, in case you were wondering. We lost them after they left Becka's place."

The Doctor nods again and closes her eyes briefly to acknowledge his update with appreciation. They put themselves to good work and managed to avoid any harm and for that, she's eternally grateful. 

"Can you walk?" Yaz stands with a hand gripping the one Graham left free. Her worry is evident and a bit unsettling. The Doctor dreads to think what sort of state she looks in. 

"We'll find out won't we?" A glimmer in her eyes right before they flutter, begging her to allow them to shut, and she's in a strange way relieved that the pain that comes with her friends pulling her arms sends them wide and frustrated. The soreness is impossibly apparent thanks to her hours of being stuck in a very compromising position. 

Sensing the agitation Ryan wraps his arms around her from behind to take some of the strain off her arms, braces his heels against the ground to stand and drag her to her feet.

She nearly pitches forward and definitely would if it weren't for three much healthier, much more reliable bodies providing all the necessary support she needs. 

"Right. TARDIS, warm clothes, tea," Yaz lists off, and the Doctor's lips quirk into a smile with fondness, appreciation and zero surprise. "then when, and  _only_ when you're warmed up, sleep. Up for a walk?"

"Up for it?" The Doctor's head drops against Ryan's shoulder who has her left arm slung around his neck. A steadying breath later and she manages to straighten. "I'm looking forward to it."

A couple of them laugh quietly, sympathetically, and Graham takes her other arm so they can begin their first few steps. Yaz stays facing the three as she walks backwards, not turning around until she's reassured that the Doctor has enough support to make some headway. 

It's a slow process of shuffles and stumbles, groans and pauses for breath, and when they're almost home she can't quite take it anymore. 

The fogginess of the Doctor's mind sends her vision wobbly and her legs useless. She trips over something with zero grace,  _barely_ manages to get her limbs to do their job and her feet to continue forward, but the weakness drags her down like a sinking stone. 

"She's passing out." Graham announces, shifting the Doctor's arm more securely around his shoulder. 

"Doctor, you can't fall asleep." Yaz joins the support team and places her hands tenderly on the Doctor's shoulders, minding her injury despite insistence that it's long since healed. "Not until we get your temperature back up." 

"I'm really-" Her knees buckle again. "Really tired." She's falling again. Graham and Ryan tug on her arms to keep her on her feet, but the barely audible expression of pain she can't contain stops their efforts, and instead the three join forces to ease her onto her back. 

Her eyes are shut by the time Yaz has lowered her head against the leaves, and she shakes her good shoulder and taps the side of her face in desperation. "Open your eyes. Look at me." 

The scrunch of her face signals that she's awake, the flutter of her eyes signal that she's  _trying._ She feels a hand lay flat over her chest and another on her forehead, and the comfort of trust and reliability on someone besides herself gives her the strength to meet Yaz's eyes. 

Ryan moves to loom over her, head inches from Yaz's, and his eyes are just as wide and insistent. "We're almost there. We're  _so_ close." 

"Just a little further." Graham squeezes her hand and gives it a shake, already starting to pull her back up. 

She pants, breathless with the small amount of effort she can muster. Yaz slips a hand behind her back to push her up and she feels her still soaked through coat pulled off her shoulders. There's a rustle of cloth and pressure against her arms and back and when the blur gives way to focus, she sees that all three of them have replaced her coat with their own.

Ryan reassumes his earlier position from behind with his arms around her waist to hoist her up, and once she's on her feet everyone is still holding tight. 

"Just keep your feet on the ground." Graham says quietly, reassuringly. "We won't let you fall." 

Her ability to move her limbs at all is the Doctor's silent thanks. 

* * *

 

It took the four about ten more minutes to navigate the forest and reach the TARDIS. It's a miracle the Doctor didn't collapse in the amount of time it took for Yaz to help her into dry clothes. 

She sits curled up in six blankets in front of the library fireplace that provides blessed relief to her aching bones. Every time her eyes shut or her head droops, Ryan, Graham or Yaz never fail to shake or shout her back into awareness. 

The four are all piled on the sofa together. Graham with a book in his hands, Ryan with his phone, Yaz's eyes flickering between the fire and the shivering Time Lord pressed against her side. 

"How are you feeling?" She speaks quietly, carefully, shifting to get a closer look of the Doctor's eyes. 

"Better." The chattering of her teeth have subsided at least, but she still binds the ends of the blanket as tightly as possible. "Would love a kip."

"Not until you're at least not shivering anymore." 

"I'm not shivering." Her contradicting voice is shaky and stuttered. "Well, not as much." 

Yaz laughs fondly and crosses her legs. "I'm glad you're alright. I'm sorry we didn't get to you sooner... we didn't know." 

"Don't be sorry. I'd have had my work cut out for me if you didn't get there when you did." The Doctor blows a warm breath into her cupped hands and rubs them together. "You did good work. I'm very grateful." 

"You'd have done the same for us." She dismisses. "But you're very welcome." 

The Doctor's lips quirk into a smile and she settles back against the cushions, exhaustion still begging to pull her under. A few more minutes in front of the fire manages to subside her shudders - good timing, too, because her eyes won't stay open any longer. "Yaz?" 

She draws her eyes away from the fire to look over. "Hm?"

"Can I sleep now?" 

Yaz places her hand on top of the Doctor's to find her skin warmed to near normal and squeezes it happily. "Go for it." 

The Doctor exhales heavily, relief dragging her under almost immediately, and her head falls against Yaz's shoulder as she drifts into an easy sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well that was fun. let me know your thoughts!


	18. Blast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous tumblr prompt: something where the Doctor loses her hearing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so you guys are always very kind to me no matter how poorly I feel about a chapter, but this is definitely a weak one to end on. I moved to a new house that has little to no phone service and with the new job and quitting the old one I'm in this chaotic frenzy that leaves me little time to write and little headspace for better articulation, so I'm gonna be closing off prompts for this fic. Thank you guys so so so much for all your kind comments over the past two months, and I'm definitely gonna keep writing! If you have anymore prompts start sending them over to my tumblr (strikingtwelves)

_Forty-seven, forty-six, forty-five,_

"Come on, Doctor. You've helped everyone escape, isn't that enough?" Yaz's words are hardly vocal enough for even herself to hear. It's more of a mental willing - cast through eye contact and rigid shoulders as she stares down the skyscraper of a weapon, straps near the base dangling loosely in the driving wind to signal the freedom of it's previous captives. They're all sprinting past Yaz, Ryan and Graham now, casting wary glances over their shoulders and increasing speed as the countdown nears zero. 

_Twenty-eight, twenty-seven, twenty-six,_

"What's she even doing? There's no one left!" Graham takes a tentative step forward that he slowly retracts as the countdown nears it's end. 

"Is she trying to stop it from blowing up? Why's she even bothering? Doctor!" Ryan cups his hands around his mouth and projects his voice loud enough for it to elicit an ache in his throat. "Everyone's out! Come on!" 

In the distance the Doctor snaps up her head, sonic screwdriver perched between her teeth and hands occupied with something hidden behind the open doors of control panels. She's quick to wave him off in dismissal and swings the door shut, tripping over her feet in a hurried skid to viewing range of the countdown clock. Her jaw drops, sonic falls from her mouth to her hands.  _Whoops, forgot about that._ She pushes herself away from the deathtrap and takes off in a full sprint at it's fullest capacity. 

_Nineteen, eighteen, seventeen,_

"Come on!" Yaz starts running backwards to follow the example of the others, hands wildly beckoning the Doctor to move faster. Push harder. Time is running out. 

The three linger, watching the Doctor's distance-blurred shape ease into clearer view. They backtrack out of self preservation but don't dare leave her behind. 

The Doctor can hear the distorted robotic voice taunting her with the uselessly vocalized countdown. She's got a few seconds to spare, she decides, pausing for a breath and bracing one hand on her knee while the other waves at her friends. "Alright! No need to worry! Is everyone safe?"

"Doctor, just get over here!" Yaz is on the verge of a scream, exasperation threatening to drag her into the ground. 

"I've got a whole ten seconds to get out of range!" She teases, taking purposefully slow steps and keeping a close ear on the countdown from behind. 

_Seven, six-_

Hands over ears, bodies crouched, heads shielded, eyes wide. 

The explosion rings through the atmosphere just  _five seconds_ too early.  _Five seconds_ short of safety. Five seconds short of a solid, story telling worthy victory. 

The Doctor is thrown forward from the impact and sent scrambling for stability on hands and knees before she falls limp. Stunned, shaken, body curled into the dirt and hands clasped tightly to the sides of her head. Coming a bit delayed is a shout of frustration, maybe pain, maybe a mixture of the two muffled by the dusty grounding pressing mercilessly against her face. 

Ryan, Yaz and Graham rise from their positions of safety crouched behind previously littered chunks of space debris. Graham grips Ryan's shoulder and gives his jacket an attentive jerk, other hand wildly pointing in the Doctor's direction. 

"Doctor!" Yaz flings herself upright and lunges forward full speed, crashing to her knees at her friend's side with Ryan and Graham settling down opposite. Everyone's hands hover above her body, retracting and extending in uncertainty. 

"She's conscious." Graham notices aloud, shifting closer to her head to soothingly touch her back and urging her to roll over. "Doc, are you alright?" 

She's breathing heavily, hands cupped tight against her ears and feet scrambling for momentum to push herself onto her back. Ryan carefully grips her forearm in hesitant assistance while Yaz moves into her field of view. 

"Open your eyes." She orders, covering the Doctor's hand with her own to try and urge it away from her ear. 

"This is why you don't show off." Ryan successfully gets the Doctor onto her back and sinks onto his heels. "We're already your friends, you know. No need to keep trying to impress us." 

Her face is contorted painfully to match the low groan that slips between clenched teeth and when her breathing begins to slow, the furrow of her forehead remains deep. 

"Open your eyes." Yaz coaxes again, squeezing her hand in encouragement but the Doctor only presses it tighter against her ear. 

"Come on, Doc." Graham's voice cracks with the deeply rooted affectionate sympathy that he blames on his old age. He swipes her hair out of her face that leaves blood staining his fingertips, and he examines the injury on her temple while Yaz continue's to draw her out of her shock. "You're alright." 

When she finally speaks it's wobbly, loud and slurred as if she has no control over her volume and inflection. "Five seconds, five seconds - they did that on  _purpose!_ " Her own words seems to deflate her demeanor just a tad more and she grits her teeth, rubs the space behind her ears and slowly opens her eyes. 

"Are you okay?" Ryan hovers above her face and she stares at him blankly, digging her palms against her ears and drawing them away again with a deeply agonized expression. 

"Doctor?" The reaction sends Yaz's existing pang of worry spiraling into something more urgent. "Are you alright?" 

The Doctor looks past her at the sky above and sluggishly elbows herself upright with one arm. She snaps the fingers of her free hand next to her face, taps her ear experimentally and her face somehow falls even more. 

"What's wrong?" Out of her field of view, Ryan's question receives no reaction. 

Yaz waits until the Doctor's head is turned away, gaze fixated towards nothing and Yaz loudly says her name. She doesn't respond. 

"Can't hear a thing." Her eyes clench shut again and she hisses out of irritation, desperately continuing to snap her fingers next to her ear. "It's all... ringy." 

"You caught the tail end of the blast. Did a number on your head too when you hit the ground from the looks of it. How's everything else feel?" Graham fusses, earning a punch in the shoulder from Ryan. 

"She can't hear you, moron." Ryan chastises, eyes widened too emphasize the  _duh_ behind his statement. 

"We should get her back to the TARDIS. It's not too far." Yaz leans closer to the Doctor's bowed head to touch the skin around the abrasion on her temple, earning a wince that prompts her to draw her hand away. "Hopefully we can sort it there."

"I know you're talking about me. Stop it, it's irritating." The Doctor digs her hands into her hair and tries to deepen her breaths from a shallow pant to something more substantial. "Right, I'm gonna stop talking too. Can't hear myself. Feels funny." 

Graham opens his mouth to draw more explanation out of her then snaps it shut when he remembers the visually obvious. 

Yaz has long since shifted into full caretaking gear and wraps both her hands around the Doctor's upper arm, rising herself and urging her to do the same. When she stumbles and tilts the injured side of her head into her palm, Ryan joins the effort to bring her to her feet. 

Once she's up, the hand on her temple shifts to her forehead and she groans unsteadily, swaying and closing her eyes against the pressure. Graham's hand on her back urges her forward, and once her momentum has her going she manages to shrug off the hands on her shoulders and wobble on her own accord. 

She takes the lead and they let her, speaking quietly among themselves with wary eyes on the back of her head in case she turns around. 

"Think she'll be alright?" Ryan whispers needlessly. 

"She's probably got a concussion, going by the looks of it." Graham warns. "That can be sorted. As for the hearing, I take it that's from the blast?" 

"She said her ears are ringing." Yaz is a couple paces ahead, unwilling to stray too far behind the Doctor in case her legs give out. "That's an explosion thing. Should wear off but I'm not exactly thoroughly educated."

"She probably is." Ryan adds. "Too bad we can't ask questions. I've got a lot of them." 

"She did this to herself. She's probably embarrassed on top of everything else. Let's just make sure she gets to the TARDIS in one piece, then we can-" She stops talking when the Doctor twists around to cast her a very specific look through narrowed eyes, and Yaz smiles nervously and holds her tongue until she turns back around. "Then we can figure out how to help. At least she can walk so she's not too bad off." 

The Doctor's pace has been cut almost completely in half by the time they reach the TARDIS. She leans against the doors, whispering something under her breath as she fumbles with the lock that Yaz figures isn't intended for them. 

Nervous and eager they follow her inside, expecting her to pilot them off world but her stride takes her down a corridor that's more dimly lit than before. 

"Where's she going?" Graham comes to a stop. 

"Med bay, probably. Should we leave her alone?" 

"I'm not trusting it. Gonna see if she'll let me help with anything." Yaz is already heading down the corridor. "You two coming?" 

When they circle the corner that leads to the medical bay door they find the Doctor half slumped against a counter top, one hand steadying herself while the other rifles through the drawers and cabinets closest. The blood steady dripping from her head leaves a spreading stain at the shoulder of her coat and they watch her release a hand from the counter to test her hearing again with a disappointed snap of the fingers. 

Yaz almost calls out to announce their arrival but instead tries to make sense of what she's looking for. The Doctor's hand finds a drawer full of flannels and she crumples one up in her hand, runs it beneath the tap and presses it to the side of her head with a sag of her shoulders from apparent relief. Her motive shifts direction in search of something else, and Yaz quietly walks up to place a hand on her back. 

The Doctor jumps and whirls around, eyes wide at first then body slumping in an obvious  _don't do that_ gesture. Yaz pulls an apologetic grimace and watches as she returns to her rifling, ignoring their presence in the room. 

Yaz casts a helpless glance behind her at Ryan and Graham, who only shrug and nod in the Doctor's direction to signal her to try again. 

This time Yaz's fingers find the Doctor's sleeve and worm their way around her wrist, a gentle tug drawing her tired attention. Yaz doesn't waste it once it's hers. "How can we help?" She maintains eye contact and speaks with emphasis, hoping the Doctor can at least work out a couple of words by the movement of her lips. 

The Doctor takes a break to lean against the wall, tilting her head into the cloth and closing her eyes briefly in contemplation. When she opens them she shifts her focus past Yaz to where Graham and Ryan hover nervously barely through the doorway, and decides not to trouble them with needless suspense any longer. If they're offering a helping hand, she should probably take it. 

"Need a, um-" She snaps her fingers again, this time to urge her thought process along as she struggles over the soundless vibration of her words in her throat. "It's a patch thing. Dunno how to describe it. It speeds up the healing process." Words aren't knitting themselves together properly on their journey from her brain to her mouth and she clenches her jaw, her fists, tries to shake the fog out of her brain to no avail. 

Graham twists his hands together and takes long strides to the station of cupboards at his left, Ryan closely following his example and the two trifle blindly through shelves while Yaz tugs the Doctor's sleeves. With a gesturing nod she signals for her to sit, take care of herself.  _Please,_ her eyes add, wide and leaving little room for argument. 

The Doctor holds the eye contact for a moment longer than necessary as if she's willing the possibility of communication through a glance alone. 

Yaz slides her hands into the Doctor's and takes the initiative of propelling her towards the nearest bed, grateful her feet don't protest and sits her down at the edge with a soothing squeeze of her shoulder shoulder she hopes the Doctor doesn't find patronizing. It's everything but.

Graham holds up an item he can't make sense of in the Doctor's field of view, quirks one brow in question and earns a disapproving shake of her head. 

The next few minutes are a bit of trial and error, bits and bobs and odds and ends held up for her inspection until  _finally_ Ryan's selection earns a nod of satisfaction. 

The Doctor holds her palm upright for Ryan to deposit the patch in her hand. She peels away the adhesive cover and twists awkwardly, arms straining, a poorly concealed wince the straw that prompts Yaz to take the patch from her hand. Gratefully, there's no resistance. 

"Back of the neck, then down a bit." The Doctor explains through a hazy slur that has the rest of the team shooting wary glares each other's way. Yaz leans the Doctor forward slightly with a hand on her back and slides the patch beneath the neckline of her shirt.

"How's the head?" Graham pulls the Doctor's hand away from where it presses the cloth firmly against her temple and nods, evidently impressed. "Right. Time Lord healing thing." 

"Need a nap." She covers her eyes with one arm as she lays back and the lights in the med bay dim right on cue. 

"Still can't hear anything?" Ryan questions, and the silence is his answer. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terrible ending but I'm brain dead and REALLY wanted to post something. Again, I'm still taking prompts on my tumblr!


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